Games of Otterburn 1388 (46 page)

Carrying his helm and chain coif in his hand, George walked over to
Douglas
’ tent that was set up fairly close to his.

Douglas
’ lay on his side in the grass nodding off.

“What’s our plan?” asked George bluntly and loud enough to awaken his battle commander.

Douglas
winked his eyes awake and saw it was George. He sat up, shook his head and yawned.

“What’s our plan?” George repeated.

“I heard ye the first time,” griped
Douglas
, “I’m for
stayin
’
here’bouts
‘til Hotspur comes to get his pennon.”

“And I’m for
gettin
’ back to
Scotland
where it’s not so near hell,” said George shaking the sweat from his head again. That time to reinforce his say.

“But if we can capture Hotspur it would pay a great ransom, George,” explained
Douglas
.

George paused to take a long look into James’ eyes to find his rational meaning then said in somber words, “This is a
game
to
ye
!?”

Douglas
grunted. He was not in the mood for such a conversation at that moment but thought he owed it to George to tell him what he thought saying, “‘Tis a game, I agree.
A very dangerous game ‘tis yet a game
ne’ertheless
.
Ye and I have been taught the rules and set adrift to manage the affairs of the game as we see fit for our particular station. The wee folk die and the high folk get ransomed. It’s the nature of war.”

“Well, I’ll be goddamned!” snorted George. “What a jaded way of
lookin
’ at war!”

“That’s why
ye’ve
got to play the game side,” pleaded
Douglas
. “The war side is the part that’s truly jaded.”

“And what about the freedom from tyranny?” argued George.
“Kings and such
takin
’ o’er what they want for no good reason at all?!”

“We deliberately started this raid to free ourselves of English tyranny over
Scotland
and our acts were acts of war… but… played out in a chivalric game, a tourney so to speak,” answered
Douglas
then added for complete clarity, “It is the way we maintain our blooded army… for the
real
wars… when they come.”

George took a long breath because he did not fully understand and then was urged by his diverse thoughts to say, “I will fight to my death for ye, my friend, as will every pledged man on this hillside but I will ne’er think of battle… as a
game
!”

Douglas
had no different argument for his philosophical viewpoint and so shrugged his shoulders sincerely saying, “I am thankful for yer friendship, George.”

Without another word
Dunbar
turned and left. Within a half dozen steps his mind was thinking of more mundane issues such as the array of his fighting men and his responsibility for their lives if and when the English showed up at Otterburn and if they were still camped there when they did.

Over the crest of Blakeman’s Law some thirty-five head of cattle and horses that were driven by John’s following troops took a route around the far side of the camp along the edge of the copse to keep the herd from trampling the tents, shelters and sleeping folk. When they got to the road at the bottom of the rise several young men minding the main herd slid a couple of rails out of the uprights to allow them entrance to the common pinfold of the loop.

Once delivered the riders went straightway to find Earl John for further orders.

“The day is gone,” said John casually. “Get
ye
a supper.”

“Hotspur hain’t
a’comin
’ today?” asked one.

“Mighty late for a day’s battle,” suggested John looking most unlike a knight ready for war.

They had no reason to think otherwise so they followed the advice of their liege lord and sent two from among them to go to the edge of the marshland and draw a ration of meat for their immediate group. Another two men borrowed fire from a nearby camp and got their cook-fire kindled while another mixed a batter for bannocks in a leather pouch waiting for the flat rock to get hot enough to pour on the thick liquid oats.

John Dunbar’s man from the north side rode in rather fast and was quick to ferret out his liege lord who was talking to a group of knights among them were Sir David Lindsay, Lord of Glenesk and Sir John de Montgomery of Eglesham.

“The English are plenty busy in that north valley, Milord,” said the man swinging down from his saddle.

“‘Ppear to be headed this way?” asked John.

“Not as of when I left, Milord,” he replied. “No
tellin
’ what that Umfraville might take the notion to do but they seem to be bivouacked in the valley.”

“I know,” said John, “That family has owned lands in these parts from long years past.”

“It helps to be cousins to the king,” put in
Montgomery
indicating the Umfraville family ties to the royal house.

That conjured laughs around the knot.

“Get a supper and hie back to yer lookout spot and keep an eye on those bastards,” ordered John.

“Aye, Milord,” said the north side spy anxious to have a meal.

John walked to
Douglas
’ tent catching him in thought. “Umfraville’s amassed an army on our north side,” he said.

James opened his eyes.
“They
a’comin
’ this way?”

“Camped for now,” said John. “So says our scout.”

“How long do ye reckon it would take to get here?” asked
Douglas
.

“Easily before dark if they started now,” answered John thoughtfully.

“Can we get some men to build a barrier at the top of the hill and man it?”

“I’ll have it done,” said John cheerfully. “I’m
sendin
’ our man back out to his lookout spot, too.”

Douglas
nodded he was pleased. Within his own mind he was glad it was too deep into the evening hours for any sensible person to start a battle. He thought Umfraville would be taking his army to
Carlisle
or else they would have attacked their position earlier.

The shadows grew long with only a few low wispy fire red stratus clouds marring the otherwise clear western sky. The heat of the day was abating and the welcomed cooler breezes portended a comfortable night of rest on the hillside of Blakeman’s Law for the army of Earl James Douglas.

August 19 - Late Afternoon

Elsdon

Hotspur’s horse blew out hard through his nostrils as he withdrew his nose from the narrow Elsdon Burn at the small
village
of
Elsdon
about two or so miles from the town of
Otterburn
. Horses and men had their heads in the water along the bank of the burn while others behind anxiously awaited their turn.

The army had ridden hard for the better part of the day having had but a single morning meal that was far gone somewhere behind them as they traveled over the treacherous road fraught with marshlands, rocky stretches, water hazards and more. It was a kind of pathway through the wilds of Northumberland’s patchwork of pasture, farm, and wooded properties rarely punctuated by the appearance of even a diminutive village.

Whatever foot soldiers Hotspur had taken along from
Newcastle
was a puny number at best and since they were coming by shank’s mare made them the furthest back in the long queue of stragglers.

A fast riding man approached Hotspur. “My lord Percy,” addressed the man who was one of the out-riding archers sent ahead of the main contingent of Hotspur’s army. Their task was to kill the Scottish spies positioned along the road who had the responsibility of letting
Douglas
at Blakeman’s Law know of the oncoming English.

“Realizing who addressed him he asked. “Did you kill them?”

“We killed five,” said the assassin. “We don’t know if that was all or not, Milord.”

“Did you see how they were arrayed in their camp?” asked Hotspur glancing at the angle of the sun.

“Only that they’re about a mile beyond Otterburn and camped north of the road with a large herd of plunder below the road close to the river, Milord,” said the man.

“But they’re bound to have widely placed pickets,” mused Hotspur aloud.

“Bound to, Milord,” was the confirming reply.

“I have another task for two of your swiftest riders,” said Hotspur.

“At your service, Milord,” said the assassin easily, his horse dancing with excitement.

“Sir Thomas Umfraville,” said
Hotspur,
“waits below Davyshiel in
Otter
Valley
. He’s in the wood there but he’ll be found with camp fires
a’burnin
’!”

“And your word, Milord?” questioned the rider.

“Tell him we are
attackin
’ now!” said Hotspur with a strong conviction and pointing to the position of the setting sun, more to indicate his time schedule than something to pass along to Lord Thomas.

“Aye, Milord,” he said then wheeled and raced up the burn gully to get another of his men to go with him to deliver the message to Lord Thomas.

Hotspur thought for a moment then turned to his oldest squire, Thomas Waltham, “Gather the nobles here quickly!”

“All, Milord?” asked
Waltham
.