Caging the Lyon Read online

  ‘Is there a ford over the Ness.’

  ‘Yes, sire. About a mile back down the river from where we are here. There is another one behind the Norse lines; you see where the trees on the other bank stop?’ The king nodded. ‘Well, just there.’

  Just after midday the Scots had formed up with the armoured foot in the centre led by the king and the clansmen on each flank under their earls. To match the frontage of their enemy they stood only four deep. The serjeants faced the mounted Orcadians on the extreme right of the line. David commanded the knights and they had gone back to the ford to the south to cross over the river. The eight hundred clansmen on garrons were kept in reserve under Moray’s son. The bowmen and crossbowmen took up position in a single row in front of the army.

  The Scots advanced until they were a hundred and fifty yards from the enemy and then the bowmen started to fire their arrows and quarrels. The bowmen fired at a high trajectory, aiming at the rear ranks and the crossbowmen shot at the front rank. Few missiles hit flesh, most punching into shields, but a few men dropped wounded or dead. It was the same story with the next few volleys. As William suspected, the Norse were not the sort of men to stand calmly by whilst under this sort of attack and started to rush forward; initially a few at a time but then the line broke and they ran forward in an uncoordinated wave. Most of those who possessed javelins left them sticking in the ground, ready for use, forgotten in the heat of the moment; as a result few missiles were launched at the Scots. The archers and crossbowmen fired at the oncoming Norse, all at low trajectory this time, and more than a few were hit but the angry Norsemen kept coming. The archers and crossbowmen retreated through the Scots line and the ranks closed again behind them.

  At the same time as the charge by the Norse foot, their mounted colleagues also advanced, but recklessly instead of keeping in line up the slope, so their charge was fragmented. The Scottish serjeants spurred their horses forward at a canter and formed into a wedge. Just before crashing into the mass of mounted Norsemen they increased the pace to a gallop. The wedge drove deep into the enemy and then the serjeants started to use their horseman’s axes to wreak havoc on their disorganised foes. Within fifteen minutes what remained of their mounted opponents were in full retreat.

  The plan was for the Scots line to stand firm but the excitement was too much for the highlanders and they surged forward to meet the Norsemen on both flanks. The armoured and better armed Orcadians started to slaughter the outnumbered highlanders when suddenly a horn sounded and three hundred knights with lances couched hit the rear of the Norse battle line.

  King William was fighting on foot in the front rank, much to the dismay of his advisers who were all too well aware that his death would be a disaster for Scotland, but he was ever headstrong and determined to lead by example. A huge Norse warrior rushed at him, lifted his axe high above his head intending to cleave the king’s head in two, helmet and all. William raised his shield to take the blow, which jarred his arm badly, whilst the knight to his left thrust his sword hard into the giant’s armpit. He fell away just as another tried to pull down the shield of Hervey de Keith on the king’s right hand side so he could thrust his spear over the shield and into the marishal’s throat. Before he could do this William deftly pushed the tip of his sword into the enemy’s right eye socket and though into his brain. He too dropped to the ground. This warm work continued for a while. The knight on the king’s left was killed, only to be replaced immediately by a man-at-arms from the second rank.

  Then William heard a trumpet sound and ten minutes later the pressure from the attackers started to ease. David had taken his men back to the southern ford and over the river to get to the rear of the battlefield having crossed back over via the other ford so that they emerged in the rear of the enemy. The king could see mounted knights slaughtering the rear ranks of the Norse army and shortly after that the serjeants reformed and launched their wedge formation into the left flank of the enemy.

  The Orcadians, assaulted on all sides, fled the field and William sent the eight hundred mounted clansman held in reserve to harry them and either follow them into the town, so ensuring its recapture, or destroy them against the gates if they were closed. However, many of the Norse reached the safety of the town before the gates were shut against their pursuers. It might have been very different if the highlanders hadn’t stopped to loot the corpses instead of pressing on to Inverness. As it was the town remained in Norse hands.

  After the victory King William decided that it was easier to ring Inverness with castles, as Guy FitzRichard had suggested, than to invest the town, especially as the six month limit set by King Henry for the expedition would leave little time for a prolonged siege. The earl of Moray already had two castles at Loch an Eilein and Lochindorb to command the routes to the south and the south east so William decided to build two more: one at Beuly at the head of the firth to protect the route through Strathglass and Glen Affric down to the Western Highlands and another on the shores of Loch Ness to block the route through Glen Mor into Argyll. Although his rule in parts of his kingdom was tenuous, at best, he had no intention of allowing this vast area to fall into Norse hands. To do so would be tantamount to permitting the whole of the north and northwest to become a separate realm, and one hostile to Scotland at that.

  ~#~

  In March 1180 Waldo left Edale quietly taking with him just one servant. He took no escort and even left his squire behind. He chose to ride a rouncy, as did his servant, and he wore the plainest clothes he possessed. He took his sword for protection and a crossbow. The servant was called Brogan, a Saxon word meaning terror. Waldo had found him amongst those waiting to be hanged in the dungeon of Nottingham Castle. A few well-placed bribes secured the man’s release into Waldo’s custody. Brogan was so grateful to Waldo for saving him from an untimely end that he swore undying loyalty to his rescuer. Waldo was sure he meant it at the time but he was too canny to trust him. He would serve his purpose then he would have to kill him but he still didn’t let him know his real name, just in case.

  Marjorie didn’t like the look of Brogan and refused him entry to the hall house at Edale until Waldo reminded her, none to gently, that he was the lord now and she would do what he said without question if she wanted to stay living there. Waldo didn’t seem to mind that this reduced his mother to tears. His obsession with revenge for his dead father had led him to abusing the one parent he had left. If this had been pointed out to him he would have failed to see the contradiction in his behaviour.

  Waldo and Brogan made their way north quite openly. Waldo’s story was that he and Brogan were serjeants travelling to Scotland to seek employment there. As England and Scotland were at peace this didn’t arouse any suspicion. When they crossed into Northumberland Waldo started to use less frequented routes. Leaving Newcastle they rode through Ponteland and Kirkwhelptington where they had the misfortune to encounter a patrol of Odenel d’Umfraville’s men. When challenged Waldo claimed that they were serjeants in the employ of Richard de Cuille who were returning to Harbottle Castle, having been sent to Derbyshire with a message. The present Lord Odenel was the son of the man who had quarrelled with Hugh de Cuille, Richard’s father, but that was past history now and they were allowed to proceed.

  That night they slept in the open in Harwood Forest. The weather had been mild up until this point but the wind veered round to north east during the night and they awoke to a hard frost. As they made their way round Otterburn in the hills to the east dark clouds filled the sky and by the time had reached Corby Pile halfway up Redesdale it was snowing hard. Below them they could see a small stone shelter with a sheep fold behind it, presumably used by shepherds watching over the flocks that dotted the hills on both sides of the valley. The snow had now turned into a blizzard and Waldo had trouble seeing more than a few yards in front of him. The snow crept inside his clothes and even into the hood of his cloak so that icy water dripped down his neck. He ignored the discomfort and tried to remember whe
re the shelter was. A minute later the snow eased and Brogan grabbed his arm and pointed to where men on garrons on the other side of the valley were shepherding the sheep down into the shelter of the village. For an instant Waldo wondered whether one of them might be his quarry, Robert of Locksley, but then sense prevailed and the two men fought their way through the snow to the shelter.

  The next day the blizzard had stopped but the snow had drifted in the wind and was five feet deep in places. Anyone out on the hills would stand out clearly against the pure white background. Waldo decided that it would be madness to try and approach Byrness in these conditions and the two men resigned themselves to staying in the shelter until the snow thawed. The sheep fold had given some protection to their horses but they had still suffered in the cold and wet. There were some blankets in the shelter so they tied these over the horses and from then on had to make do with just their cloaks themselves.

  That afternoon the wind changed direction again, this time to the south and the snow started to thaw in the warm breeze. The two men were still asleep early the next morning when they were woken by voices loudly demanding to know what they were doing in the shelter. Waldo sat up and looked at the two boys, both about ten or eleven years old, then smiled at them in what he hoped was a winning way. He had trouble understanding their thick accents but he understood enough when one told the other to go and fetch the men from the village.

  As the younger boy started to run down the hill towards the village far below Waldo reached up and grabbed the hand of the remaining boy and pulled him down on top of himself. He kicked him over for Brogan to deal with and grabbed his crossbow as he left the shelter. The other boy was forty yards away running downhill as quickly as he could in the melting snow. Waldo raised the crossbow and fired. The boy was moving about so fast the quarrel could easily have missed him but he was unlucky and it smashed into the back of his left knee. His leg collapsed under him and his head hit a rock with a sickening crunch, killing him instantly. Waldo went down to him, scarcely noticing that the sheep were back on the hills, and flinging the boy over his left shoulder he climbed back up to the shelter. He threw the dead boy down beside the other, whose throat Brogan had cut. He looked out of the shelter and saw that the snow had melted on much of the hills, although it remained in hollows and pockets where the sun never shone. Leading their horses out of the sheep fold behind the shelter, they saddled up and rode over the ridge and out of sight.

  Waldo eventually reached his destination, the remains of fortifications built by the Romans a millennium ago along what had been Dere Street. From here he could keep an eye on the village of Byrness below and on the movements of Robert of Locksley. For two days they took it in turns to keep watch. The food they had brought with them was getting low and Waldo was beginning to think they might have to abandon the vigil in order to hunt game. Even then they would have to eat the meat raw as a fire would give their position away. Then, on the third day, a number of riders left the village and headed up the steep valley towards them.

  As they neared his location Waldo could see the group consisted of Robert accompanied by the de Cuille brothers, an ugly Scot, a youth and the big man who had threatened him in Norham Castle five years ago. Waldo had chosen his position well. He lay under a gorse bush on top of the sloping bank that had originally been the ramparts of the Roman camp. His head and shoulders were concealed by the lower branches of the bush. He suffered considerably from its sharp thorns but he ignored them as he concentrated on his target. In the hollow behind him Brogan held the horses ready for a quick departure, quietening them so they did not give their position away.

  When the group was eighty yards away Waldo took careful aim at Robert’s chest with his crossbow and released the quarrel.

  ~#~

  Richard still enjoyed hunting in the hills with Elliot and had introduced Edward to the sport. When Miles had become Richard’s squire he had taken him along one day and the boy proved a natural. He had patience as well as stalking skills learned as a child in Sherwood Forest and he was a good shot with a bow. Robert and John Little were equally adept at creeping up on their prey. Edward had taken his squire, Avery, along one day but the youth had neither the patience nor the ability for this type of hunting.

  On that fateful day Edward had met Richard and Miles at Byrness and, with Robert and John Little, they headed up the little valley towards the old Roman camp. From there they intended to hunt along the hilltops this side of the border to see what they could find. Nowadays Richard was a somewhat sombre man who had never got over the death of Jocelyn and his consequent abandonment by Claire nearly six years previously. As his wife was now a nun, and had therefore taken a vow of chastity, he could have applied for an annulment and married again but he had no desire to do so. His mother Alice continued to enjoy good health and acted as chatelaine at Harbottle. If he wanted sex there were plenty of willing young women around. He was aware that he had two illegitimate daughters and there were probably more children he didn’t know about.

  The only reason he might have got married again was to sire an heir but now that Edward had settled down and produced two fine young sons he didn’t see the need for it. The barony would stay in the Cuille family without his help. Then came the death of both Simon and Nicholas in the same year. That had certainly given Richard pause for thought. Not only had it emphasised the transitory nature of life but it meant that Edward would inherit the Scottish barony in right of his wife when Guy died, and that death probably wasn’t too far away.

  He had discussed the matter with Edward and they had agreed that Tristan should be named as Richard’s heir and that Edward’s second son, David, would inherit Craigmor in due course. To this end Tristan would become Richard’s squire when he was old enough and then later, when he was knighted, he would become constable of Otterburn Castle until Richard died.

  Richard’s mind was still dwelling on this when a quarrel came out of nowhere and struck Robert low on his chest. It punched straight through the leather jerkin he was wearing, then his woollen over tunic and linen under tunic before pulping his liver into a bloody mess and lodging in his back. Robert toppled from his horse and lay there mortally wounded.

  Miles and Richard leapt off their horses and rushed to his side whilst the others, spotting movement near the gorse bush as Waldo got up and ran for his horse, kicked their mounts into a laboured gallop up the hill and over the remains of the Roman embankment. As they crested it another man, already mounted, fired another crossbow at them bringing down John Little’s horse. Edward and Elliot gave chase for a while but they failed to gain on their quarry. Suddenly Elliot sawed at the reins to pull his horse to a halt, leapt from the saddle and took careful aim with his hunting bow. The arrow was fired at maximum range but it hit one of the horses in the rear quarter. It didn’t bring it down but it certainly slowed it up. The first rider got away but they caught the other one and, tying his hands behind his back and putting a halter round his neck, they took him back to where Robert had been shot.

  By the time they got there Robert was dead.

  They took their prisoner back to Otterburn Castle and tortured him but all they got out of him was that his name was Brogan and he was from Nottingham. He refused to name his companion or where he had come from.

  Chapter Ten – The Death of a King

  More deaths followed. That of Guy in May 1183 had been expected for some time. That of Henry the Young King on 11th June most definitely had not.

  When Edward de Cuille arrived at Craigmor with his family for Guy’s funeral he met Edmund of Winchester for the first time. Edmund had been Guy’s friend ever since they had been incarcerated together at Bristol with King Stephen after the battle of Lincoln in 1141. He was still the constable of Craigmor, as he had been since he’d arrived in Scotland when it was no more than a tower. Edward had to admit he was very impressed by the castle. It was one of the most impregnable strongholds he had ever seen. The outer bailey was protected by a tal
l wall behind a deep, wide and fast flowing burn. Several towers had been built along the wall so that defenders could fire along the outside of the wall if attackers managed to get across the burn. The gatehouse was topped by a guardroom with murder holes in the ceiling and it was protected by drawbridge, gates and a portcullis. The main castle itself was essentially a long wall with towers at each end and in the middle. Next to the large middle tower stood a gatehouse that had recently been extended outwards by a barbican which had been built with the access through a side wall so that it had to be approached alongside the castle wall. This made it difficult, if not impossible, to use a battering ram against the massive doors.

  Even if attackers got through the first set of doors they would then be trapped inside the gatehouse by the inner pair of doors. In this position they would be exposed to fire from the murder holes above and the arrow slits in the walls of the gatehouse. Furthermore, they couldn’t use a battering ram against the inner doors because they were angled at ninety degrees to the outer entrance.

  Edward and his family rode through the open outer gates of the barbican and turned right to pass through the inner gates. These led to the inner bailey: a sizeable square of land surrounded on three sides by vertical cliffs against which the sea pounded. The great hall, kitchen and brew house filled the left hand side of the bailey and the stables, smithy and chapel the right hand side. A defensive wall filled the third side, though Edward wondered if that was really necessary, given the sheerness of the cliffs. He had noted the dovecote and the grazing horses in the outer bailey and the well in the inner bailey. The castle looked as if it could withstand a long siege. As he gazed up at the thick castle wall under which they had just ridden, he noticed the large windows facing the sea. Presumably the bedchambers and dormitories for the garrison were in the wall itself and, unlike most castles, the rooms would be light and airy as a result.