The Lords of Arden by Helen Burton

inexperienced as he
was, was too wily to be drawn away from his main objective to fly to Philippa's
aid. Berwick would fall long before Philippa was subjected to any real danger
or hardship. But when help failed, and the day of surrender passed by with
Seton prevaricating and swearing to defend the town to the last man, Edward
erected a gibbet and hanged young Thomas Seton in his father's sight; the old
man helpless and obdurate upon the city ramparts. Douglas abandoned Bamburgh
and retraced his steps, determined to meet Edward face to face. The beleaguered
set themselves a new date for surrender, July 20th, and by the 18th Douglas,
with a host of fifteen thousand at his back, was crossing the Tweed. Edward,
sure of himself, had chosen his own ground, Halidon Hill, two miles north-west
of Berwick. True, he had the Tweed at his back and Douglas could have been
forgiven for believing that the English were trapped and ripe for slaughter.
     Beside Plantagenet rode Edward Balliol,
the Scots claimant and Edward's own protégé, the stalwart William Montague -
hero of Nottingham Castle, Harry of Derby and Thomas de Beauchamp, at the head
of his Warwickshire levies. On the crest of Halidon, Edward and his commanders,
with their cavalry, dismounted, and prepared to fight on foot. Before them,
down the slope of the hill, were ranged banks of archers, armed with that most
deadly of weapons, the English long bow. Between Halidon and Douglas's
four-pronged attack lay a wild stretch of marshland, emerald green and luminous
in the lingering light of the sun; the last sunset the beleaguered garrison of
Berwick were to see before the day dawned, fixed for their surrender.
     Douglas too, dismounted his cavalry, but
he was forced to it for there was no way of crossing that morass on horseback. Advancing
on foot, their lines fragmented, their formation irregular, the Scots were easy
victims to the deadly hail of English arrows, thick as motes in a sunbeam; they
fell by the thousand. Those who struggled through the marsh, hampered by the
weight of their armour, climbed the slope to meet Edward's captains, still
fresh and chafing from their earlier inactivity, sword and battleaxe at the
ready. Archibald Douglas was mortally wounded and about him fell a galaxy of
Scottish earls: Lennox and Carrick, Athol and Strathearn and Sutherland, and,
besides, many a scion of the houses of Stewart and Fraser. Berwick was Edward's
and with Berwick came Scotland herself for there were no lords of note left to
defend her on that day. English losses were negligible and Edward had grown in
stature; the boy king had come of age and Bannockburn was at last avenged.
     Thomas Beauchamp crossed the Tweed at Edward's side with a new and healthy respect for the king who had given them
today's victory. But it was mingled with certain awe for the man who had
cold-bloodedly ordered, and seen carried out, the execution of the hapless
Seton boy. For the future, it would serve them all well, he and Harry and
Montague, never to presume too closely on Edward's friendship. It placed the
first distance between him and the friend of his boyhood; setting Edward apart
as a man but putting him firmly upon the throne of England and freeing him
forever of any taint of his weak-willed, profligate father.
     They had left the reeking hill behind
them in darkness when Edward turned to him. ‘Tom, I have to take the surrender,
go through all the formalities; it will take time. Gather your men and ride,
swift as you can, to Bamburgh and Philippa and stay until I come to you. Assure
her all is well and send her my heart's love. Will you do it?’
     ‘Gladly, Ned.’ They clasped hands and
Thomas wheeled about and abandoned the defeated town and rode south to the
Queen.
     
    ~o0o~
     
    Bamburgh had stood a hundred and fifty
foot above the sea since King Ida had built the first wooden fortifications. The
Normans had used the local sandstone to build their square, red keep and
their