Games of Otterburn 1388 (53 page)

John Montgomery raised his sword for a possible last strike. It hung in mid stroke.

Hotspur cried out in a raspy deep voice that ached for moisture, “I yield!”

“
Ye’ve
got
ye
the ‘Hotspur’, Milord,” said an excited warrior standing behind
Montgomery
. “That’s
goin
’ to be a real thing to be
a’tellin
’ my children about some day!”

“So we do… have Lord
Hotspur
,” he replied tingeing his words with a bit of hard earned sarcasm.
Montgomery
picked Sir Henry up by the arms and from the
wardens
fingers, still tightly locked around the handle, he wrenched the heavy broadsword.

“Water?’ he rasped out.

Montgomery
gladly pulled his own skin of water from his girdle and handed it to his most wonderful prize for the ransoming.

Hotspur’s men were pushed too far back to be able to help him in any manner.
 

August
20 - After Midnight

Along the
Rede
River

It had been George Dunbar, the Earl of March who, after Umfraville abandoned the fight during the earlier part of the evening, sent two scouts after them to see to their disposition and direction.

The earl was concerned about whether they were going to attack them again from another direction, repair to Harbottle or, as he strongly suspected, head toward
Carlisle
to relieve Lord Ralph Neville from Archibald Douglas and Robert Stewart’s overwhelming superiority.

The scouts followed Umfraville’s sizable army out of the
Otter
Valley
and down the River Rede where soon enough they saw them making a camp without fear of detection.

“‘Ppear to be
headin
’ for
Carlisle
,” said John as the two watched from a higher elevation.

“Don’t figure them for
comin
’ back to the battle,” said Samuel getting off his saddle. “Let’s watch for a while.”

“Ye watch,” I’m
goin
’ back to tell March what’s
goin
’ on,” replied John.

“Ye
a’comin
’ back?” asked Samuel.

“Back at dawn,” said John, “If I can manage.”

“If I have to move on, leave trail marks for
ye
to follow, I will,” came back Samuel confidently.

John wheeled his horse and began the five mile backtrack to Blakeman’s Law not knowing what conditions he would find there. The moon became his only companion as he muttered his thoughts into the semi darkness.

He crossed the River Rede close to the battle site and when he reached the copse of Greenchesters he immediately ran into Sir Matthew’s horsed troops making sport of running down barefooted men and lads with sword strikes along their necks and shoulders.

John’s eyes remained sharp as he realized his best way to get across the wood to where he last saw Earl George was on foot. He tethered his small nimble horse to a tree branch and made his way to the open spaces of the warrior’s camp on Blakeman’s Law where he began his ferreting out of the earl.

John was suddenly clapped on the shoulder. “Thought I sent
ye
on an errand?” said the commanding voice.

John turned to see Earl George staring down at him. “Ye did, Milord. Here to report, I am,” said John trying to sound older than his years.

“Where’d they go then?” asked George bluntly.

“Camped down the Rede not far from where it joins with the
Tyne
,” he reported.

“‘
Ppears
they’re
headin
’ for
Carlisle
?” asked the earl.

“‘
Ppears
so but they’re not that far gone to tell for sure, Milord,” replied the lad.

“Where’s yer friend?” asked George.

“
Watchin
’ their camp, Milord.”

“Ye go back and watch with him,” explained George, “and when ye can tell if they’re
headin
’ that way or not ye must get to Carlisle and tell either Sir Robert Stewart or Sir Archibald Douglas that they will be hard set upon by Thomas Umfraville with a large body of men, ye got that?”

“Aye, Milord,” said John hoping he could remember the details of the names.

“That means ye must get to
Carlisle
ere Umfraville does!” insisted George.

“Aye.
Milord,” snapped back John, “I ken yer say, Milord.”

It was at that point that John Swinton came toward George to join the main battle to get Hotspur’s army on the run.

“Get to yer chore,
laddie
,” said George giving John a friendly pat on the back then turned to speak to Swinton.

John left to follow his own trail once more. He was hungry and thought to get a bite of victuals for Samuel and himself. Knowing the servant’s camp had such stores he went down the gentle slope to where he thought dried meat was being stored.

The tent he remembered that had been filled with such stores of food was ripped to shreds and he suddenly was aware the voices around him were from English tongues and many of them slurring their words at that.

He crouched in the darkness and unsheathed his dagger when the grayed light became black. John sat motionless in near darkness listening. The raging battle behind him had become a conflict of silence. There were still English drunkards in every direction
nattering
their senseless words.

He looked at the sky and the moon was gone. He saw no edge to the cloud that covered it.

He felt around in the grass where the tent had been for sacks of whatever food he could find and snatched up the first rough-cloth pouch his fingers touched. He unfastened the strap and smelled. “Roots,” he muttered derisively to himself.

He went on hands and knees to find more of the scattered victuals. He felt another sack and smelled it without opening it.
More roots
, he decided.

Two of the English speaking soldiers wandered close and John froze. As soon as they got beyond his position he took the sacks of turnips and made his way across the road to where, even over the smell of the roots, he could smell horses. He knew he was not going to be able to get back to his own horse and was ready to find another he would have to ride bareback.

His nose served him well since within forty paces he was among the horses and destriers of the Scottish army.

As he felt along the withers of the animals and checked if they had bridles or not he softly spoke in a calming voice to keep them docile.

“Ye a Scot?”
came
a nearby voice.

John again froze.

“Ye a Scot?” the voice asked again.

“Aye,” admitted John not at all sure how his answer was going to immediately impact him.

“My name’s James,” said the voice, “Lord Swinton’s squire.

John eased in his manner replying, “I’m John. I need a horse for a venture I must do for the Earl of March.”

“Can’t ride in the pure dark,” advised James.

“Can ye get me a goodly horse for
scoutin
’?” asked John still blind to whom he was talking.

“Mine’s the best for such
ridin
’ as that,” said James. “Is it mine ye might be
a’wantin
’?”

“If yer
willin
’ to part with him for a while ‘til I get back from
Carlisle
,” said John cheerfully.

“Kept him saddled all night for fear I’d have to run for my life,” said James.

John could tell James was coming closer to him.

“Ye ken the condition of the battle?” asked James.

“Mighty fight still
goin
’ on… no
tellin
’ the outcome,” said John who suddenly felt James’ hand touch his. He instinctively jerked back.

James laughed.
“Just
handin
’ ye the reins.”

John then laughed. “Ye want a turnip?”

“Aye,” sounds good,” replied James, “A trade of a horse for a root.”

Both of the young men then laughed together never knowing what the other looked like.

The dark prevailed and so did John for James got him atop his horse and walked the animal to the edge of the river by feel and by sound. He handed the reins up to John and told him to ford the river, turn to his left riding through the few trees stitching the river and he’d then be on his way. Both of them would be glad if the clouds would float on by but they feared it would be covered for all the night.

The rogue cloud did abate after a while and John could travel at a faster clip to where he left Samuel to watch after the enemy camp.

It was early light of the new day as he approached a higher ridge. He looked into the valley and saw that Umfraville’s army had awakened early and was gone.

James knew Samuel would have left him the trail signs he promised and he walked his horse to the place where he had left Samuel seeking a possible first sign.

John glanced downhill to see if there were any vestiges of camp followers still in the valley when he noticed a part of Samuel’s surcoat jutting from the base of a tree trunk directly below.

He gasped. He waited a moment to collect his thoughts. He then called out easily. “Sam?”

Samuel did not answer.

He got from his horse and surreptitiously looked uphill from his position. He saw no one. He went down hill using the sides of his boots to make for sure steps on the steeper grades. His breath quickened when he came to the tree trunk and he looked around again dreading a trap.

He finally went to the lower side of the tree and there was Samuel appearing to be peacefully asleep except for the arrow wound in his chest. The archer had been close enough to retrieve his missile after his deadly shot.

John shook his friend but he was already stiff and cold.