Enemy at the Gate by Griff Hosker Page B

standards and banners behind them.  Even as we watched I saw one of them fall.
    "You have good eyes. Do you see the banners?"
    He peered, "The ones chasing are Scots."
    "Then they are our enemies. Whoever they chase we will aid. We ride.  Dick, mount your archers and sweep to the west.  We will charge them head on."
    We galloped south.  The ten we had first seen cowered as we galloped by. They looked stunned to see our horses and banners. If we were to save the others then we had no time for pleasantries. However, as we rode by I recognised that two of them wore the livery of Sir Edgar Mandeville.  I was helping a supporter of Stephen the Usurper!
    The dips and folds in the land aided us.  We disappeared from the view of the Scots as they concentrated upon the men they were chasing. We knew where they were. The track was little better than the moors around it and we rode in one long line.  We burst over the crest and the nine men who were fleeing towards us on horses already close to death, stopped and hung their heads as though they expected death. The thirty Scots who were pursuing must have been confident of catching their foes for they rode in a single column of twos.  We saw each other when we were but fifty paces apart.  Instead of charging us, which was the only option I would have taken, they halted.
    Sir Edward and I rode at the two leading men, a knight and a man at arms. I punched my spear at the knight and, although be brought up his shield, he could not prevent my spear striking and penetrating his shoulder.  He chopped through my spear with his sword and I drew my own. He rode a palfrey and Rolf was bigger and more fierce. I swung my sword at his shield and his weakened left arm could not stop the blow.  It hacked down across his neck and he fell from his horse. 
    His standard bearer lowered the standard and screaming, "Scotland!" charged at me with the standard held like a lance. I jerked Rolf's head to the left and hacked at the standard. Holding my own banner in his left hand Gilles brought his sword sideways to take the head of the brave young standard bearer. The rest were all quickly slain.  Dick and his archers appeared from the south.
    "We found four Scots who were on foot.  They are dead. My archers are fetching their possessions."
    I dismounted and picked up the standard.  I recognised it.  It belonged to Redere. I returned to the knight I had slain.  Lifting his helmet I saw that he looked to be of an age with William my son. The seal he bore marked him as a knight.  "He must be a son or brother of William Redere. Our lives, it seems, keep touching."
    "Aye lord."
    "Wulfric, collect the horses and the booty."
    "And the bodies, lord?"
    The moorland was dry for it was summer.  I did not want a fire which might destroy this land.  "Put them together and cover them with rocks." Wulfric scowled, "Wulfric, they fought well enough."
    "Aye lord. You are too kind. I would have left them for carrion."
    As we rode back to the men we had rescued I reflected that, perhaps he was right but a man cannot change his nature.  I was not naturally cruel.  I had fought men who were.
    The nineteen men who had survived had joined together and stood not aggressively but apprehensively. They had dismounted for their horses could carry them no further. I took off my helmet as I approached and handed it to Gilles before dismounting. The leader of the group had a wound to his head, a blow had cut him from his eye to his chin and his ventail hung in two parts.  He looked to be an older man at arms.
    "Who are you?"
    "I am John of Craven and I lead all that is left of the men of Skipton."
    "The Baron of Skipton is dead?"
    "No, my lord. " He almost spat the words out and I could hear the hurt in his words. "Sir Edgar fled the field with his brothers. They left us."
    "The field?  You had better start at the beginning.  Gilles give them water for they look like they need it."
    "Thank you lord, we have ridden for