James Aitcheson - Sworn Sword

Gerard and Fulcher rode back to rejoin us, and we were five once more. Four of the dozen spearmen lay dead in the street, but there was no time then to feel sorry for them. I rode up to those who remained. Some leant on the top edges of their shields while they recovered their breath; others staggered about amongst the corpses, retching by the side of the street, and I supposed those ones were drunk. If they were, it was something of a miracle that they were still alive.

‘Where’s Earl Robert?’ I asked those who looked the most sober, but they looked blankly at each other.

‘We don’t know, lord,’ said one. His eyes were bleary and he smelt of cattle dung.

I was about to correct him, for I was not a lord, but evidently he had seen the flag attached to my lance and it was easier to let him assume that I was. I let it pass.

‘Go back up the hill,’ I told them. ‘Back to the fastness.’ I did not know where the earl would be rallying his men, but eight warriors on foot were unlikely to accomplish much here on their own.

A flash of silver caught my eye further along the street and I saw a conroi of knights — at least a dozen, perhaps as many as twenty — charging down the road from the stronghold, towards the town square. I couldn’t see any banner, but a few were carrying torches and the flame streaked behind them as they galloped past.

‘Go,’ I said again to the spearmen, then I waved to Eudo and the others to follow me, and we rode on.

The road was strewn with corpses both Norman and English, but far more of them were Norman; this I could tell because their hair, rather than running long and loose, was cut short at the back in the French fashion. There were corpses with spears through their chests, corpses missing arms and some missing heads. One lay sprawled forward, his face deep in the mud, a great gash across the back of his neck.

The road branched to the left, down the hill towards the north, and we turned to follow the conroi I had seen, which was some way ahead of us, already passing the tower of the church, disappearing around the bend that led down to the square. One of the lords had joined them from somewhere, for I saw a banner flying over their heads, though I did not recognise the colours: two thin green stripes on a red background.

‘With me,’ I said. I noticed Ivo was beginning to lag behind, and thought he shouldn’t be tiring so quickly, but then I saw that he was clutching one hand to his side, close to his waist, and I realised that he had been struck.

‘Onwards,’ I told the other three as I slowed Rollo and trotted back towards Ivo.

His teeth were clenched tight and he had a pained expression on his face. ‘I’m not hurt,’ he gasped. ‘Go with them.’

‘Let me see,’ I said as I prised away his fingers. His mail was wet with crimson; beneath it, his tunic was similarly stained, and there was a round, open wound where a spear had pierced his skin. It looked deep, and I only hoped that it had not penetrated his gut.

‘Get back to the fastness,’ I told him. ‘Find someone who can help you.’

‘It’s nothing,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I can still fight.’

‘Don’t be a fool,’ I said, more harshly than I had meant, perhaps, but it was plain that he was going to be of little use in the fighting that was sure to come.

He bowed his head feebly, but did not argue as he tugged on his reins to turn back up towards the stronghold.

‘Go,’ I said, slapping his horse on the rump to start it moving, and slowly he began to ride back up the hill. I did not wait to make sure he was gone, but wheeled around to follow the others, who had already disappeared from sight, beyond the bend in the street. On either side of me Normans were fleeing back up the hill, some staggering, some managing to run, and there were some too on horseback, although they had no mail or weapons with them.

‘Back to the fastness,’ I shouted to them all. Silently I cursed at how we could have been caught so unprepared. I thought of Oswynn and I inhaled deeply, praying to God that Mauger and Ernost had taken her to safety.

The wind rushed past and the ground disappeared beneath Rollo’s hooves. On my right the church tower rose up, tall and dark, though its bell was no longer tolling. The street turned sharply to the left, and all of a sudden the marketplace was before me and I was charging at full gallop towards the enemy. For the square was filled with men: Normans and English running amongst each other, shields clashing against shields, all in disorder.

A horse screamed in pain, and I watched as its rider was toppled from the saddle, still desperately clinging to the reins as he hit the ground. The animal teetered on its hind legs, and the knight, with one foot caught in the stirrup, was kicking, struggling to get away. He was still shouting when the hooves came down on his face.

I looked for Eudo and the others, but in the darkness and amidst so many men and horses I could not see them. In the very centre of the melee the hawk banner flew high, and I searched for Lord Robert amongst his knights. At first it seemed he was not there, and I felt my heart race, but then he lifted his head, shouting as he drove his sword through an Englishman’s chest, and I saw the red strips of cloth attached to his helmet: the tail that signified that he was the earl. There were ten knights with him, and a great many spearmen as well, but the Northumbrians must have recognised who he was, for they were throwing most of their numbers into that part of the battle and were already beginning to surround him.

‘For Lord Robert and King Guillaume!’ I roared as I charged to his banner.

A sole Northumbrian, separated from the rest of his kinsmen, came at me from the front, throwing the full weight of his body behind his spearhead; I cut to the right and took the blow on my shield, striking the weapon away so hard that the haft slipped from his grip. I followed through before he could get out of the way, bringing the boss down on top of his bare head, and he fell to the ground.

More of the enemy had seen me coming and quickly they turned to face me, away from Robert and his men, bringing their shields together, overlapping them to form a wall. They began to level their spears, but they were few in number and so I spurred Rollo on, trusting in him not to falter, not to panic. I raised my shield to cover his flank, ploughing onwards, ducking my head and closing my eyes tight, and then I heard the snap of ashen shafts and the clatter of limewood shields upon the stones and I knew I was through. I looked up to the sight of splinters flying and Englishmen fleeing around me, and then I was amongst them, cleaving with my blade: tearing through leather, through mail and through flesh; making space for anyone who might be behind me to follow.

‘For King Guillaume!’ came a cry, and I recognised the voice as belonging to Lord Robert. I looked to my right and he was there by my side, pressing forward through the Northumbrian ranks, his helmet-tail flailing behind him, his teeth gritted in determination as he brought his blade down, shattering the rim of an enemy’s shield. ‘For Normandy!’ he yelled.

The enemy clustered close around us, thrusting forward with their spears, but then a war-horn blasted out and suddenly most of their kinsmen were falling back to form a new shield-wall further down the marketplace, leaving these few without support. The rest of Robert’s knights were with us now, and the English must have realised how exposed they were, for fear took hold of them and all at once they fled.

I was about to give chase when Robert shouted out: ‘Hold back!’

I looked behind me and understood why, for there were barely twenty knights under his banner and he could not chance to lose any of us. More spearmen had arrived to fill out our ranks; and, down the road from the fastness, I saw banners of all designs, banners in red and white, green and blue, and riding beneath them were men in mail hauberks, men with helmets and swords, coming to join us. For a moment I breathed more easily, but only for a moment, because at the same time the English were gathering, marching up the hill from the town gates, and once more they were banging their weapons against their shields, all of them roaring with one voice.