[Norman Conquest 02] Winter of Discontent (24 page)

Alan quickly re-aligned the tip of the lance towards a swordsman who was back-peddling
and
trying to get out of the way. As Fayne smashed into two other men, hurling them to the ground where they were trampled
by the horse
, the lance caught the swordsman in the chest under the arm. The force of the blow and weight of the man splintered the lance, leaving Alan holding just half of its previous length. A glance over his shoulder as he dropped the broken haft and drew his sword showed just one man still standing, a swordsman.

As they had practiced, the troop slowed slightly and formed an arrowhead formation with Alan
at
its centre. Suddenly one man toppled over and fell, struck in the shoulder by an arrow. The re
mainder
closed up and continued, now again at a canter. Two or three individuals on foot were struck wi
th sword or simply ridden down.

A group of
Welsh
horsemen clos
ed
from the left, swords drawn and shouting loudly. Alan pressed with his knees,
instructing
Fayne to turn
. T
he small group of horse
men
swung together in response to his lead. Most of his men had discarded broken lances. Those who still h
eld
them made full use of the extra range, plucking three of the Welsh warriors from the saddle before the two groups met. The Welshmen tried to swerve to avoid the charge, intending to use the greater mobility of their smaller mounts to circle and catch the Englishmen from the
flank
or behind. The English
men
forced their mounts close to the Welshmen, in many cases the horses crashing into each other
. Then
the greater weight of the larger horses Alan had acquired for his men showed its worth
,
with several of the smaller
mountain
ponies being knocked over or staggering and unbalancing their riders.

Alan found himself facing a mounted Welshman. Alan had the advantage of longer reach as he was a tall man mounted on a horse four hands taller than the diminutive pony ridden by his oppo
nent. The Welshman was stockily-
built with long black hair streaming down from under the conical metal hel
met he wore, dressed in a sheep
skin jacket and
woolen
trews. He carried a small round shield, but like Alan
he
could not bring it into p
lay as the two horses were nose-
to
-
tail with the men’s sw
ord arms next to
their opponent
.

Traditional swordplay on horseback was limited to either letting the momentum of the charge work for you, with the sword
largely
held
still
, or when engaged just simply flailing and bashing against each other until an opening occurred. Obviously the finer points of footwork he had learnt
as a swordsman
were useless to Alan now, and a horse cannot be quickly and precisely maneuvered- if anything the Welshman had the advantage in that regard. However, as he stood in his stirrups to increase his height and allow more body
-
weight behind his blows, Alan used what skill he could, with deft
and subtle
changes of angle and direction of the blade and several pre-planned series of blows.

In the Paris
s
alle de’
a
rmes
Alan
had been trained to maintain peripheral vision by having men hit him with sticks from the side while h
e was fencing against the
Sword master
. That skill saved him now, as he saw from the corner of his left eye a blade rise above eye-height on his left, previously unengaged, side. Alan slightly raised the shield strapped to his left arm and ducked his head fractionally, causing the sword to deflect off the top of the shield. The opponent on
Alan’s
right had seen the blow coming and had paused to watch the outcome. That pause cost his life as,
without
taking his eye off his opponent, Alan swept his sword
aside and lunged, putting six inches of steel into the Welshman’s belly
. He
then spurred Fayne forwards and in the one motion pulled his sword clear, swiveled in the saddle to face his left, brought the sword across, raising it slightly so that it cleared Fayne’s pricked ears,
rose in his stirrups
and swung the blade with all his weight behind it. The opponent
on
the left was unbalanced after his
own
blow had unexpectedly missed and
held
his small shield several inches too low. Before the Welshman could realise his danger Alan’s blow had passed over the top of the
shield and struck off his head.

As Alan had intended, the spurs had caused Fayne to take a convulsive leap forward, clear of the immediate scrimmage, and Alan took a quick look around. His troop had achieved near parity
with
the number of horsemen they faced, the Welsh having been whittled down from about fifteen to ten. However, another two of the Wolves were down and another was reeling in the saddle. A few paces away Edric was engaging two Welshmen, keeping them at bay with mighty swings of the single-handed axe that
was his
preferred
weapon- t
he movements of
his
axe
being
surprisingly subtle for such a weapon. Alan used the pressure of his knees to have Fayne move to Edric’s assistance and plunged his sword into the unprotected back of one of Edric’s assailants. Edric quickly finished off the other one, axe smashing aside the shield and then sweeping back in a butterfly motion to strike his opponent in the chest, and
then
nodded his thanks to Alan.

A gaggle of foot-
soldiers ran past, making for the trees to the west. Edric turned to dispatch s
everal
, and as the
Welshmen
flowed around the Englishmen Fayne suddenly screamed and then reared before crashing down backwards
,
as a Welsh swordsman had cut the hamstring on one of the horse’s hind legs. As Fayne fell, Alan slipped his feet from the stirrups and threw himself sideways to the left
,
away from the falling and thrashing horse, ca
sting aside his shield
, so that he could protect himself by rolling as he hit the ground.
The contact with the earth drove the air from Alan’s lungs.
As he rolled he knocked the legs out from under a Welsh spearman, who fell backwards with Alan on top. Alan’s sword was caught underneath the Welshman, held in place by their combined weight and unable to be retrieved. As he lay face to face with his foe, Alan felt the scrape of steel on steel a
s
h
is opponent
sought to use the knife now in his right hand to find a weak spot or join in the armour. The knife was uncomfortably close to one of the buckles under Alan’s left armpit. Alan grabbed the ma
n’s knife-
hand with his own left hand and released his grip on his now useless sword. He tried to punch his adversary, but as he was lying partly on his right side he was unable to get any power into the blows. Then he saw a pair of booted feet walk into his
limited
field of vi
sion
and waited for a blow to his unprotected back. There was a swish, a blur of movement and his foe’s head flew away
. B
lood fountained, spraying over Al
an and the legs of his saviour.

Alan rolled to his right, pulling his sword out from under the still twitching body, as Edric offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. “That
accursed
ungesælig
ruined my trews!” said Edric looking at his blood-drenched legs.

“I owe you a flagon of ale, Edric.”

“Well, I thought that for a
wealh
you aren’t a bad
hererǽswa
.
The Welsh have all pissed off into the trees, so lets get the men together,” replied Edric.

Alan used his sword to
quickly
dispatch the still kicking and struggling Fayne and took possession of one of the chargers that was wandering ownerless on the battlefield. Seven of his eleven men were still in the saddle, elated at their first taste of victory in a serious fight. They retraced their path to find the missing four
men
, two of whom were dead and two injured, one severely as he had received a spear in the belly.

FitzOsbern had some men repairing the bridge and soon the dead and injured Anglo-Normans were able to be taken back to the village. Within minutes the dead of both sides had been stripped of anything useful- armour, weapons, jewellery and occasionally clothes and
boots. The remaining villagers who had not had the opportunity to flee were instructed to cross the river and gather up the Welsh dead, under careful guard to ensure that they didn’t collect any weapons that
may be found in the long grass.

The village head-man decided that the
Welsh dead
wo
uld be buried in a common grave-
pit near the church. A similar pit was dug for the Anglo-Normans, again using the villager’s labour. There were about
250
Welsh dead, and about
50
wounded- probably about half the number that had been in the field
that day
. Nearly
100
Anglo-Normans were dead, mainly from the cavalry that had borne the brunt of the fighting, and
30
seriously wounded.

FitzOsbern had won his battle over the Welsh king, but at a high price. Fully one third of his cavalry, the cream of his army, was dead or wounded
-
and this despite the fact that the Anglo-Norman surprise attack, being on one flank of the Welsh army and accordingly meaning that only a part of the Welsh army was able to fight the Normans at any one time, had been made under the most advantageous conditions possible.

The Welsh women
of the village
were instructed to care for the wounded, which they did conscientiously and without apparent favour.

The battle had taken less than an hour
from start to finish
and had started very early
. I
t was still only mid-morning when fitzOsbern called into the Cantref Hall where the injured were being treated. He was still in armour when he entered
,
walking
with a slight limp
,
dirty, disheveled and covered in blood. Some was his own
blood
from cuts to
his
cheek from an arrow and
his
thigh from a spear. He moved amongst the wounded, dropping onto one knee next to each Norman or Englishman with words of encouragement and thanks, before approaching Alan, who was assisting the village
w
ise
w
oman to tend a severe arm wound suffered by a Welshman.

“Warm work this morning, Sir Alan!” commented fitzOsbern. “Those Welsh buggers fought damn well
,
considering the tactical disadvantages they had.”

Alan nodded and replied
,
“Nobody has ever doubted their courage or skill, just their lack of training. Fuck!” he exclaimed as a ligature slipped and blood spurted
from the arm he was working on
. “I don’t think this man is going to make it. Can you get the village priest in here? There are quite a few men who need to be shriven before they die
,
and I’m sure our men would
rather be prayed over than not-
even if the prayers are in Welsh.”

“He’s doing burials at the moment,” replied de Neufmarche, who had followed fitzOsbern into the Hall.

“The dead can wait. They have all eternity. Just get him
!
” instructed Alan.
D
e Neufmarche nodded and gave instructions to one of his men.

“We managed to get the attention of the ship that we had arranged go to Abergele, as it was sailing past,” commented fitzOsbern. “It’s unloading some supplies near the bridge at the moment.”

Alan nodded and suggested
,
“Get the less badly wounded men taken on board and have the ship sail back to Chester. They’ll probably get there by tonight and it’ll be much easier for the
injured
than traveling on a bumping wagon on a rutted dirt track. If we get two ships tomorrow, we can send
back
the more seriously injured once they’ve had a chance to stabilize, and also the captured weapons and armour. If we send that booty back by road the Welsh will almost certainly take it back,” he suggested.