David the Prince - Scotland 03 (35 page)

There were cries of agreement, especially from the Normans, for whom such tactics were basic.

"Perhaps, Sweenie- but first we must
see
the situation. There are other invading forces than this one, remember." David turned to the Ancrum man again. "Are there any of the enemy nearer? This side of their line?"

"I think not. I saw none. Two more of my lord Colbain's men are forward there, watching."

"Then we shall go look. Fergus, Hugo, Hervey - come with me. Richard - bring you the company on, more slowly. Watchful. Be ready for action. You, friend," he said to the local man. "Is there a ford across Teviot between here and Rook's Burgh? We must watch our flank."

"Yes, lord - below Heiton. Heiton Mill ford. Yonder, a mile." He pointed south-eastwards.

"Richard d'Avranches — send a small patrol to inspect that ford. To cross and discover if there is any enemy presence on that side of Teviot. We have to know."

With the Ancrum man as guide, David's little group rode forward, at speed.

The land soon began to fall gently but steadily before them, the moorland giving way to scattered open wood and rough pasture, the trees providing ample cover — although this could cut both ways. Smoke rose high and murky ahead in a number of places in the middle and farther distance, no doubt burning, harried farmeries and hamlets. The township of Rook's Burgh itself was not actually visible, because of the trees, it being on still lower ground near the confluence; but no great smokes billowed there, so presumably it had so far escaped devastation.

Two miles or so they rode, taking advantage of the shelter of the woodland and saw only cattle and sheep, with now the rivers' troughs on either side becoming ever more evident, the feeling of enclosure manifest. Presently they came to the edge of the cover, only the open spaces of Rook's Burgh common ahead. And there they found the two other Ancrum men waiting, watching, hidden behind scrub and bush.

One of these watchers pointed, unspeaking.

Some six hundred yards out there the line of the enemy was clear to be seen, although scarcely as a recognisable line or front, more as groups and parties of men stretching away on either hand, with gaps between, occasioned by undulations in the ground, outcrops of rocks, clumps of whin-bushes and the like. Men came and went, without any attempt at hiding. Numbers were very difficult to calculate, but what was not difficult to recognise was the confidence, the assurance that all was well, with camp-fires sending up their slender blue columns into the evening air, so very different from the dense brown clouds from burning thatch. Also it was clear that however unconcerned these Northumbrians were, they were most certainly facing this direction, westwards, as positioned.

Significant as all this was, David's glance lifted nevertheless beyond, to where, on the rocky spine which formed the very tip of the peninsula, the new castle was being built. Standing considerably higher than the township, it was quite visible from his stance, under one mile away. And although it was too far to distinguish much in the way of detail, it was entirely evident what was going on there. Large numbers of men were at work on the great building - but work of destruction. The masonry was being smashed and cast down, containing walls levelled, ramparts undermined, scaffolding-poles felled and burned, dressed stones hurled down into the rivers. David's new bastion of the East March was in process of demolition.

He stared, lips tight, fists clenched, but said no word.

Hugo coughed. "Ill work" he said. "Much toil, much thought, brought to naught. There is spleen there! Who would do that, David? And why?"

"Someone who mislikes you!" Fergus jerked. "But - what of it? That is only stone and lime. These here, before us, are flesh and blood! Time that we showed them whose land this is!"

"Stone and lime . . . !" David echoed. "There is hatred behind this, I think. So be it." He turned his eyes back to the foreground. "This. . . this is passing strange. These men. They face us, backs to that destruction. Yet they look as though they feared nothing, no attack, knew nothing of our near presence. It scarcely makes sense . . ."

Fergus's mind dwelt on other aspects of the situation. He jabbed a pointing finger eastwards. "If we drove through there, and there — yonder between those whins. There would be no stopping us. And there, the rocky slope up to that scarp. They could by no means hold that line against cavalry."

' "They would reform behind us," Hervey said.

"Even so, we could wheel and break them up. Three places, four, along this line, and we would have them. Their defence would serve against foot, never against trained cavalry."

"Which it seems, they do not look for. Let us ride further along, northwards," David said. "Look for other points to breach. So that our people may charge straight for their objectives, with no milling here: That the enemy gain no warning

Still in the cover of the trees, they turned back a little way and then trotted some distance northwards, towards Tweed. Their guide told them that the land there eventually dropped sheer into the greater river in quite high cliffs. Either side driven in that direction would be trapped.

Satisfied that they knew the terrain sufficiently, they cantered back towards the Viscount's main party.

D'Avranches had two fresh items of news for David. Messengers had arrived back from the Earl Cospatrick. He sent word that no enemy appeared to have proceeded up Tweed as far as the area opposite Rutherford - local folk had seen no sign of invaders. So, the urgency off him as far as Ersildoune was concerned, he had turned eastwards, down river, for some way, scouts out. They had found a force of Northumbrians, encamped, settled for the night evidently, and facing westwards, some two miles down, in a defensive position near the Trows, where the Tweed narrowed and ran through a rocky gorge. Numbers were uncertain but there were some hundreds. The other tidings were from the patrol sent down to the Teviot ford at Heiton. These had found the ford unmanned, but at the village above, on the far side, they had learned that a large number of the invaders were massed about a mile further east, at a place where a tributary burn entered Teviot amidst bog, difficult of passage. They had been there for some hours.

David smashed down his fist on his saddle-bow. "You see it?" he exclaimed. "You hear? It can only be . . . All these enemy forces at the same ploy. All in position, settled, facing westwards, waiting. No doubt there are others, at the other side of Rook's Burgh, facing eastwards. Or north. They are placed for one purpose - to protect the men who are pulling down my new castle! That is the objective. Whoever leads them, or sent them, wants no castle at Rook's Burgh. It is all to wreck that."

Considering it, none could disagree.

"Who would do this . . . ?" Hugo was demanding, when Fergus interrupted.

"There is one way to find out! Attack! At once, before they learn of our presence. This line, in front. We have seen their positions and weakness. We can cut through them like a dirk-like four dirks! Then round on them."

"Yes," David nodded. "It must be that, now. We have here some two hundred and seventy men. Four horsed wedges of fifty each. The others as reserve. The Norman knights, trained in this, to be the spearheads of each wedge. There is good cover until less than half-a-mile. There, at a blast of my horn, we charge, together. Each wedge perhaps two hundred yards apart. Once through, each to split into two, and turning, ride down on the enemy from behind. Is it understood?"

There were no questions.

"The reserve will go to the aid where most needed. But, first - Cospatrick's couriers. Go you back to the Earl, and tell him what we do. Tell him to ride forward with his party, openly, to just before the enemy on that side. At this place you spoke of-aye, the Trows. Make a show of marshalling and the like, in front of them. No need to fight. Only to keep them occupied, so that they do not come to the aid of the men at the castle. You have it? Then off with you . . ."

Without further delay the five parties formed up, with only minor dispute as to who should lead which. Then, in file as yet, they trotted forward behind David, to take best advantage of the available cover, until at length they came to the last of the trees. There, they spread out, the four wedges in line abreast, David placing them. Despite the urge to lead one of the groups himself, he remained with the reserve, in the centre. There appeared to be no change in the situation ahead.

He blew his horn.

The four teams burst from the shelter of the woodland almost simultaneously and spurred swiftly into a full gallop, to thunder across the rough pasture in tight arrowhead formations, the foremost and outer riders swinging drawn swords and maces, the inner men ready to replace them. Seldom can any cavalry wedge have hurled themselves upon an enemy dressed in such unarmoured finery.

It was almost too easy, with the Northumbrians totally unprepared, indeed with most of them clustered around camp-fires eating their evening meal of stolen beef. Six hundred yards are quickly covered by galloping horses, so that they had not time to be given orders or to form up effectively in any defensive posture. Many rushed for their due positions, but as many did not, the sight of sword-wielding horsemen hurtling down upon them sufficiently dissuasive.

All four wedges crashed through that only token line almost without pause or major hindrance, the whin-bushes and rocks, which were to have aided them, tending to offer the greater obstruction. David perceived no need to go to the help of any. The swinging round and dividing process, thereafter, was rather less effectively executed, with some going further than others, and the breaking-up apt to degenerate into a free-for-all. But since the enemy themselves were in chaos, and milling about without any recognisable line anywhere, it could have been that the individual horsemen, slashing and beating, wheeling and caracoling where they would, actually proved to be the best offensive tactic.

David and the reserve rode in on a shambles - but a shambles in which the blood spilled and the disaster was almost all on one side. One or two of the horses were hamstrung or had their bellies dirked open, and a few riders fell or were slashed. But compared with the Northumbrian casualties theirs were negligible.

Those of the invaders who could, began to stream away eastwards, for the township of Rook's Burgh.

David blew his horn again, waving all his people in on himself, to halt the carnage and form up again into troops, for a descent upon the village before there could be any sort of defensive stand made there.

Leaving the ravaged battleground, most of the force—not all, for many of the northern wedge had gone chasing after Northumbrians fleeing towards the Tweedside cliffs — went off at a canter, in some sort of order behind their leaders, over-running many of the refugees on their way to Rook's Burgh.

The township was not very large, although it had doubled in size with the advent of David's castle-builders, an old village, successor to that of the Pictish fort, still mainly contained within the crumbling earthen walls of its one-time stockade. But there was no attempt to man those green ramparts in the face of the pounding horsemen. Only panic prevailed, the fleeing men from the broken line, those camping there already and the frightened local folk, all in cowering turmoil.

Clearly nothing demanded their immediate attention here, David pointed upwards to the castle-site towering above.

To reach it, on its spine of rock, there was only the one route-which was a great part of its strength, of course. They had to go round to the west end of the spine, where it was less steep, and a corkscrewing track led up to the summit. But even here, the natural defences did not cease, for the spine was gapped and cut across by a quite deep cleft, which had to be crossed. David planned to dam this at each end and fill it with water, the moat thus formed to have a drawbridge as the only access. Meantime a fixed timber bridge crossed it, however.

The site could have been defended against them, had the bridge been cast down. But nothing of the sort was attempted. The people up here were not there to fight, only demolish - and the bridge would be the last item to be demolished. They all must have seen much of what transpired on the lower ground, but no plan of action had eventuated. Men watched, stared and waited. Some moved as far away from the advancing horsemen as they could get. Some even continued with their work of destruction as though nothing of what went on had anything to do with them. Some, however, sought to flee by trying to scramble down the steep rocky sides of the spine.

David and his people swept into the castle area - and none there were left in any doubt as to the newcomers' feelings about the demolitions.

While his riders drove the folk out, David and some of his lieutenants climbed to the highest part of what was left of the castle, to peer eastwards. The light was now fading and the more distant prospects towards the Merse were hidden in the gathering dusk. But entirely clear to be seen, something over a mile away down Tweedside, were the gleam of camp-fires amongst woodland.