Chapter 7.9
4 July 1010 Bishopric of Melrose, County of Teviotdale
The afternoon pressed on as did the Jorvikian heavy infantry. Prince Hlothere, Duke of Gwynedd and Commander of the Northern Army watched from the saddle of his horse with the reserve. Outnumbering the English by nearly two to Hlothere felt that the reserve would only be needed to finish off the English.
He had wished he could use his calvary more effectively but the terrain where Ealdmund Osheresson had set his lines prevented that. The English commander had chosen to make his stand near a crossroads in a wooden area. The trees were not dense but there were enough to make calvary operating off the road or the small clearing near the crossroads very difficult. The ground was also uneven and sloping up toward the defenders. The heavy infantry and pikemen also had difficulties maneuvering amongst the trees. Their formations became disconnected and isolated. Instead of hitting the English as one massive formation they were striking them piecemeal.
The light infantry and archers, however, this terrain was taylormade. They could hide behind trees, rocks, and other forest debris. They moved quickly and in far greater numbers than their English counterparts. Slowly but surely the little pricks they were making were having an effect. The English were beginning to waver and the heavy infantry was finding their attacks more and effective following the light infantry.
Hlothere smiled. This was his command. A command promised by his brother and delivered. This was his plan and it was working despite those who criticized him and the plan. Somewhere before him wielding his two headed axe with deadly results was his biggest critic and half brother Sigfrið, Earl of Gloucester and Marshal of the Duchy of Gwynedd.
Sigfrið who from almost the beginning of the campaign seemed to relish in making his brother’s life as a commander hellish. He questioned and protested nearly everything Hlothere proposed or did.
When Hlothere proposed to invade Teviotdale Sigfrið objected The scene from nearly two months ago so infuriated Hlothere it began to replay in his mind.
*****
Hlothere entered the command tent and was greeted by his commanders, Prince Sigfrið, Mayor Vagn of Lowther who was Marshal of Westmorland, and Earl Eadwine of Cumberland. The commanders gathered around the table in the center of the tent. On the table was a map of Northumbria and English Lothian as the Jorvikians called the English controlled Duchies of Lothian and Galloway.
Hlothere handed his gloves and helmet to his squire who took them and placed them on a table nearby.Hlothere looked at the map and then his commanders and asked, “Have all the levies arrived?”
Eadwine answered, “Yes, milord. The last troops arrived from Derby yesterday afternoon.”
Hlothere looked warily at the Earl of Cumberland who was second in command. It was a position he held primarily due to the Northumbrian levie being the largest in the Northern Army. Hlothere was unsure if he trusted the Cumberlander. He had been one of the leading supporters of Countess Maria’s Revolt. He was seriously wounded at the Battle of Furness. From what Hlothere had heard he had fought bravely during the Irish Tribuate Wars. According to rumors he fallen into disfavor with Prince Hjalmar, Duke of Northumbria over Eadwine’s unenthusiastic support of Hjalmar’s War to Revoke Durham. He was sent to fight the English as his punishment.
Hlothere smiled, “Tomorrow we shall begin our glorious campaign here in the north. While many will look to the south for the war to be won. It will be here in the north where the English army will be destroyed.”
The commanders applauded Hlothere.
Vagn was the only one of the three seated asked, “Who commands in the south?”
Hlothere looked over the 75 year old mayor. Vagn was the only commander seated. His gout in his right foot had flared up and the pain prevented him from standing. Hlothere knew at one time Vagn had fought bravely for the rebels during the revolt and had even earned the respect of Duke Emrys. Now his abilities were fading with his advancing years and Hlothere thought his time was over.. Being Marshal of Westmorland Hlothere had been directed to offer him a command.
“Bishop Hrolfr will land in Sussex. Earl Sumarliði will attack Middlesex. Duke Emrys and the king will invade Oxford.”
The disposition of the armies in the south meet with approving grins from all the commanders expect Sigfrið. Hlothere glared at his half brother who returned the look.
Hlothere continued, “We will invade Teviotdale. If the English army does not show itself we will advance on Jedburgh and invest the city.”
Hlothere looked at the gathered commanders. He was pleased with what he saw. Eadwine whose hatred of the English was well known was smiling ear to ear. Vagn who also had a long history of wishing for war with the English. Coming to Sigfrið who Hlothere knew could not the English he was disappointed as the Earl of Gloucester stood silent with a scowl on his face.
Hlothere then looked down at the map and pointed roads leading from Cumberland where they presently stood into Teviotdale, “Earl Eadwine you will take the lead with your Northumbrians and the levie from Mann. Earl Sigfrið you will follow with the levies from Gwynedd, Chester, and Derby.” Hlothere had given his brother the largest number of troops in the army hoping it would appease him some. “And lastly Mayor Vagn you will follow with the levies from Lancaster and Westmorland.”
Hlothere looked up from the ap and said, “You have your orders. Now go and prepare. We will leave an hour after sunrise.”
The commanders acknowledged their orders and left. Eadwine was the first to leave. Vagn required assistance from his squire who was always nearby to stand. The aged mayor leaned heavily on the boy as he left. Only Sigfrið was left.
Hlothere looked at his brother and his annoyance spilled over as he said, “Out with it brother.”
Sigfrið glared at his brother and snapped back, “Are you not being foolhardy? Did Rædwald, the king direct you to exercise caution and only invade once you were sure of the English intentions?”
Hlothere glared right back at Sigfrið, “The English are tied up at St Andrews.”
Sigfrið shook his head, “That information is months old. For all we know the bishopric could have fallen by now and the English are marching toward the border. What strength are they? We have only 4000. Would it not be prudent to wait for the Great Company to reinforce us?”
Hlothere looked at the map, “They only have about 2000 troops.”
Sigfrið threw his arms in the air, “How did come to that conclusion?”
Hlothere smiled proudly, “That is the number of English troops Æflgar has left after the majority of his vassals abandoned him after forcing him to give more power to the Council.”
Sigfrið slammed his palms on the table and leaned toward his brother, “What of the Catalan Band? That is 1500 mercenaries you have not accounted for.”
Hlothere stood straight and folded his arms at his chest, “By now Ælfgar has released them.”
Sigfrið felt like he was jousting with an idiot, “How in the name of all the saints did you learn this?”
Hlothere was growing angry at his brother by now, “He can no longer afford them. By now his treasure is pretty close to being empty.”
Sigfrið shook his head, “And they call me mad?”
Now clenching his fists at his side Hlothere now fully angry let Sigfrið have it, “Just because you are my brother do not think that protects you in any way. I will arrest you for insubordination in a heartbeat. Do you understand?”
Sigfrið licked his lip and started to say something but he stopped himself. He did reply angrily, “Yes.” Then he added as he began to walk out, “You had better be right.”
On his way past the stool Vagn had sat on Sigfrið kicked it over.
Hlothere watched his brother leave. He then realized that he was clenching his fists so hard that his nails were drawing blood.
*****
Hlothere was brought back to the battle by the sound of a messenger approaching. The rider stopped before Hlothere and bowed as much as he could on a horse.
Eagerily Hlothere asked, “What is it?”
The messenger replied, “Earl Eadwine said that the right flank of the enemy is collapsing and it is time to send in the reserves.”
Anger quickly flashed in Hlothere. Eadwine dares to order me. He forgets his place in this army. Hlothere took a breath before speaking. The messenger did not deserve his wrath. “Tell Earl Eadwine to push the flank toward the center. We will attack when we feel the time is appropriate.”
The messenger nodded. He saluated this time instead of trying the awkward bowing. He then wielded his horse around and galloped off.
Hlothere cursed the trees. He could not really see what was happening on the flank. He turned to look at the center. The line was still holding. For a split second Hlothere could see Sigfrið and his bloody axe rallying the troops forward. Then he was lost in a mass of men and foliage.
Seeing his brother amidst the danger of battle Hlothere suddenly felt regret. Regret that over the last couple of months he had been constantly angry with his brother. It had hit Hlothere that Sigfrið could easily die on this day. It was taking a great deal of emotion to overcome the animosity he felt the last week or two.
*****
Sigfrið stormed through the siege camp outside of Jedburgh. Upon reaching Hlothere’s tent he yanked back the flap and entered the tent. There he found Hlothere in the process of donning his armor. His squire was assisting him in getting into his chain mail.
Sigfrið took one look at the squire and in a blood curling voice said, “Out.”
Full of fear the squire looked at Hlothere. Hlothere nodded and squire ran out of the tent as fast as he could.
Full of anger Hlothere said, “What is the meaning of storming in here?”
Sigfrið looked at his brother and hissed, “So it is true. You have found the English.”
Hlothere finished adjusting his armor and replied, “Yes we have. Scouts report they are marching through Lothian towards us.”
Still in a foul mood Sigfrið asked, “How many?”
Hlothere smiled, “About 1800. All Englishmen. No mercenaries. Ealdmund Osheresson is commanding. See all your worrying was for naught.”
With venom in his voice Sigfrið asked, “Are you sure?”
Hlothere growing weary of the conversation, “Yes!”
Sigfrið walked toward his brother and said, “What are your intentions?”
Hlothere glared at his brother, “To destroy them.”
Sigfrið turned and walked back toward the opening and then turned back to Hlothere, “You are going to abandon the siege and chase after them.”
Hlothere nodded, “Yes.”
Sigfrið took a breath and said, “We have fortifications here. Why not wait for him to attack?”
Hlothere picked up is sword and belt. He wrapped the belt around his waisted and buckled it, Ealdmund Oshere will not attack us here. We are too strong. He will bypass us instead.”
Sigfrið threw his arms up and said, “Then let him bypass us. Finish the siege.”
Hlothere was getting frustrated and replied, “I cannot allow him to run amuck unchecked in Northumbria or further south. We must destroy him now.”
Sigfrið showing signs of his own frustrations, “These forested lands between here and Melrose are no place for battle or finding the enemy. Two armies with minstrels playing could pass each other in these forest and never know the other one was there. It is not good ground to attack on.”
Hlothere replied, “Nevertheless it is the ground we have.”
Sigfrið shook his head, “You are playing right into Ealdmund Osheresson hands.”
Now fully angy Hlothere said, “That is enough. Earl get your soldiers ready to move. We have a War Council in an hour.”
Sigfrið glared at Hlothere. He then spun around and stormed out of the tent.
*****
The noise from the battle before him transported Hlothere back to the woods near Melrose. As he struggled to see the fighting he thought he saw glimpses of the English flank folding. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. His mouth was dry. The moment of his triumph was upon him.
He stood in the saddle and turned to the men around him. They were made up of all the calvary he had which was all light horse, and several hundred heavy infantry and a small troop of longbowmen. “Calvary in the front. Infantry and bowmen follow.”
He then drew his sword and pointed toward the English.
“Forward!,” he yelled.
The horsemen followed Hlothere down the road. First at a slow pace and then at a trot. They lowered their spears as they began to gallop. The Jorvikian infantry before them cleared the way and cheered.
Just a few hundred feet from the English lines the forest was filled with sound of horns. Horns coming from the right flank and rear of the charging reserve.
Hlothere was confused. Without realizing he allowed his horse to slow some as did many of the horsemen. He looked around trying to discern the direction the horns were coming from.
Like a banshee the horns sounded again. Then like ghosts horsemen appeared out of the trees charging toward the Jorvikian reserve. They wore yellow and red vertically striped tunics. The horsemen were followed by infantry.
Hlothere cursed, “the Catalan Band. Ælfgar found a way to keep them for a while longer.”
Hlothere tried to turn the reserve to defend against the charging mercenaries. However, the momentum of the reserve carried them into the English lines. What had been an organized attack had disintegrated into a mob trying to stay alive.
*****
From his position to the left of Hlothere Sigfrið saw the charge. With horror he saw the Catalan Band charge out of the woods and watched them head toward his brother. Realizing Hlothere was about to be cut off Sigfrið yelled like a Viking of old.
Sigfrið brought his axe up and swung it at the closest Englishman who went down with a huge wound in his chest. Sigfrið moved forward only to find his way blocked. This English soldier managed to swing his sword at Sigfrið but the earl ducked. He swung his axe again and the soldier lost his arm and with another swing of the axe his life.
Each time Sigfrið tried to move toward his brother more and more Englishmen stepped before him and barred his way. Others joined Sigfrið but the mass of enemy troops were too much.
Sigfrið watched with dismay as Hlothere was surrounded. Then he saw Hlothere pulled down from his horse. Hlothere seemed to be swallowed by the mass of enemy soldiers around him.
Sigfrið screamed, “No!” and tried even harder to reach his brother. Again his way was blocked. Now, however, the way was not only blocked by English but by Jorvikian soldiers retreating.
Seeing their commander fall had unnerved them. First a few retreated in good order. Then more and more. Order collapsed. Morale disappeared and the rout was on. It was now everyman for himself. Sigfrið found himself swept up in the chaos. The battle was lost.
*****
Hlothere’s head hurt like it had never before. Slowly he opened his eyes. The room he was in was dimly lit by several candles. He was resting on a cot under some blankets. He threw the blankets off and lifted himself to a sitting position. His head was swimming. He quickly held it in both hands with his elbows resting on his knees.
The last things Hlothere remembered was being struck in the chest by a spear. The blow knocked the wind out of him but did not pierce his armor. As he wavered in the saddle he felt hands grabbing him, pulling him. He was now falling. He hit the ground with loud crash. There was a bright flash and then darkness.
Suddenly the room which was actually a tent was lit with bright light. Hlothere blinked and tried to looked up but he could not recognize the person standing before him.
The man said, “Prince Hlothere how you do feel?”
Hlothere now recognized the person, “I have been better, Ealdmund Osheresson.”
Ealdmund Oshere smiled, “That is good. You will be our guest for a time.”