King Henry's Champion by Griff Hosker

distant hedgerow.  I could see their horses labouring across the muddy field.  The rain showed no sign of abating.
    “Wulfric get the lines organised.  I want two lines of men.  Make sure there are plenty of spears behind us.”
    Ralph reined in. “They come, my lord.  We slowed them a little but,” he held his hand to the skies, “this is not good for war bows.”
    “I know.  Put your men on the right flank with Dick and keep your horses tethered.  We may need them.”
    The squires hurried up to us having taken the horses to the castle.  It was almost comical to see them trying to move quickly through cloying and clinging mud. I turned to spy out the enemy.  Their foot had come through the hedge first in case we had an ambush.  They formed up.  I saw that they had a line of lightly armed men before their horse.  They would try to clear away the stakes.  Behind them their horsemen waited.  I saw the knights in the middle and recognised the banner of Gospatric.  The Earl was leading our enemies.  They had less than forty men at arms in their ranks.  There were other horsemen but they had no mail. Our two attacks had diminished their numbers. Gospatric was gambling on destroying our small force but had he chosen the wrong day? Looking down the line I thought I saw a couple of men wearing the white surcoat of crusaders. If they fought this day then they would be wearing brown!
    As I looked down I saw that the place where we had held our conference and the area around the stakes was now a mass of sucking mud. The fields had been prepared for sowing. It had been both loose and friable.  The rain had turned it back into clay. The blood which would be spilled this day would bring better crops for the farmers next year.  The question was would they be English or Scots farmers.  This day would decide.
     
     
     

Chapter 5
    The lightly armed men tried to race across the field.  I saw them struggle.  The horses behind would find it even harder.  The men on foot had small shields. In their hands they carried axes and hatchets. The stakes were well within range of my archers. I saw that they had sent fifty men across while the horses plodded their way behind.  Gospatric would wait until a path had been cleared and then they would charge. I saw the banners of the knights.  One or two were obviously Scottish but the majority were English; they were rebels.
    I shouted, knowing that my captain of archers would hear, “On my command, Dick.”
    “Aye my lord.”
    I waited until the men reached the stakes before I shouted, “Release!”
    Disappointingly less than half of the arrows found a mark.  The rain on the strings and flights meant that they had a much shorter range.  Eight men were struck.  Two stayed down.  Dick sent four more flights over before I heard him shout.  “Change strings!” They all carried spares.  The hiatus as they changed bow strings allowed the enemy to tear out and destroy a third of the stakes but they had paid a terrible price.  The arrows and bolts from the castle meant that the ones closest to the river had all been driven from the stakes which remained while Ralph had taken his archers closer to the road and driven those back with their bows as well as their swords.  The twenty odd survivors were forced to retreat when Dick’s fresh bow strings took their toll.
    They had made a gap of forty paces in the centre of our lines of stakes. Their horses would be able to charge us. I heard the enemy horn sound.  “They come, my fine fellows, but we will hold them.  We have beaten them twice.  The third time pays all!”
    My men cheered.  It was cold and wet and miserable. We were outnumbered. We stood a good chance of dying on this muddy rise but we were in good heart.  Men who have never tasted defeat have confidence in abundance.
    I saw that the bodies of the dead lay in the gap through which the horses would have to come.  They would find that obstacle tricky. It was