Both Sides the Border: A Tale of Hotspur and Glendower, G. A. Henty [popular romance novels .txt] 📗

"Roger," he said, "You doubtless heard the earl's words, and I am now master of this tent, together with the armour, horses, and clothes of Sir William Baxter. Master Henry Pemberton will act as my squire, during the campaign. You will be my second squire."

"Well, master, I never looked so high as to become an esquire; and would rather remain a simple man-at-arms, were it not that it will keep me near you."

"You will find Roger a good comrade, Master Pemberton. He has been a man-at-arms at his own choice; for, as he can read and write as well as any clerk, he might have done better for himself."

Pemberton looked, with some surprise, at Roger. He himself had not these accomplishments, and he was surprised at finding a man-at-arms so well endowed.

"As you may tell by his speech," Oswald went on, "he is, like myself, a Northumbrian; and has done good service in the wars with the Scots."

"That I can well imagine," the squire said, with a smile. "I would certainly wish for no stouter comrade."

"We must see about arms and armour for you, Roger," Oswald said.

"There will be no difficulty about that. None whatever, Sir Oswald. We have lost fully three hundred men, since we crossed the border, and a hundred and fifty since we came here, four days since. There is a pile of harness and arms, lying by the roadside; and there, methinks, it is likely it will lie. You have but to go with him, when you have attired yourself and buckled on spurs, and you can pick and choose among it. Assuredly, no one will gainsay you."

Oswald now changed his attire. The clothes were handsome, and fitted him well. Then he buckled on the golden spurs, put on the knightly armour--for he had observed that the earl, and the knights that he had seen in the camp, all kept on full armour, being ever in expectation of sudden attack.

"Truly you make a handsome figure, Sir Oswald," said Roger, who had been assisting him. "Little did I think, when I used to rail at you at your books, that you would grow into so stalwart a man; and that I should follow you in the field, as your squire. Your armour fits you as if made for you, save that these cuishes scarce meet your body armour. In truth, though bad for him, it was lucky for you that the master of this tent came to his death when he did."

"I like a steel cap better than this helmet, though I say not that it looks so well."

"Not by a long way," Roger said. "Nought could become you better. What cognizance do you mean to take?"

"I have not thought about it, yet. There will be time enough for that, after the war is over."

"Well, at any rate, master, I will today set about getting Sir William Baxter's off the shield. Methinks that, with some sand from the river bed, I shall be able to manage it with an hour's rubbing."

"Now, come along, Roger. There is no time to be lost, for I dine at midday with the Earl of Talbot. Master Pemberton will show us where the armour is lying."

There was, indeed, a large pile.

Oswald then said, "As you are known, Master Pemberton, you had better stop here; for it will take some picking before Roger is suited. As it is but two minutes to twelve, I must hurry back to Lord Talbot's tent."

Some seven or eight knights were already there. Lord Talbot introduced him to them and, as they dined, Oswald related, at their request, more particularly how he had got through the Welsh--a task that seemed to them well-nigh impossible, since the soldiers dared not venture even to the edge of the forest, so thickly were the Welsh posted there.

"That man-at-arms must be a stalwart fellow, indeed," said one, "to kill three Welshmen with nought but a quarterstaff."

"If you had seen the man, and the staff, Sir Victor, you would not be surprised," Lord Talbot said. "He stands some six feet four, and has shoulders that might rival Samson's. As to his quarterstaff, I marked it. It was of oak, and full two inches across; and a blow with it, from such arms, would crack an iron casque, to say nothing of a Welsh skull."

For the next ten days the weather was so bad that no operations could be carried on. Every little stream was swollen to a raging torrent. Horses, carrying men in full armour, could scarce keep their feet on the slippery moor; and even the footmen had the greatest difficulty in getting about; and all excursions were given up, for the Welsh, barefooted and unweighted with armour, would have been able to fall upon them to great advantage, and could then evade pursuit, with ease.

The number of sick increased rapidly, and it became necessary to send another convoy back to Llanidloes; where the guard were to join the force that had gone there, ten days before, and to escort some waggons of flour and a number of cattle, that had been brought there from Welshpool by a strong levy from Shropshire.

Ten knights, a hundred mounted men-at-arms, as many on foot, and fifty archers were considered sufficient to escort the sick; who, to the number of two hundred, were closely packed in the ten waggons that were to return with flour. Three of Lord Talbot's knights were to form part of the escort, and among these Oswald was chosen by the earl.

It was hoped that the convoy would reach the town without being attacked, for great pains had been taken to prevent the news of its approaching departure getting about; for there were many Welshmen in the camp, employed in looking after the baggage animals, and in other offices. They had all been hired for the service on the other side of the border; but it was believed that some of them, at least, must be in communication with the enemy; who were thereby enabled to gather in force, to oppose any parties who sallied out from the camp.

The consequence was that, until half an hour before it left, none save a few of the leaders were aware of the starting of the convoy. Then orders were rapidly issued. The knights and men-at-arms who had been selected for the service had but a few minutes to prepare themselves. The horses were harnessed to the waggons, and the sick and wounded carried out and placed in them, with the greatest expedition, and the party set out in less than half an hour after the first order had been given. It had gone but a quarter of a mile when the shouts among the woods, on either side, showed that the Welsh were vigilant. Horns were blown in all directions, the sound growing fainter and fainter, in the hills.

"We shall not get through undisturbed," one of the knights said to Oswald, who was riding next to him.

"No, I think we shall have fighting. It would have been better had we and the men-at-arms been told to leave our horses behind. In this deep soil they will be of little use in a fight, and we should do better on foot."

"It would be terrible, marching in our heavy armour."

"Doubtless it would have been so, but I should not have minded that. The distance is but six miles; and although, in this slippery plain, the toil would have been great, methinks that we could have made a better fight than on horseback; and as these waggons travel but slowly, we could have kept up with them."

"We can dismount, if necessary," the knight said; "but, for my part, I would rather ride than tramp through this deep mud."

Their progress was indeed slow, the waggons frequently sank almost up to their axles in the mud, and it needed all the efforts of the dismounted men to get them out. A deep silence had succeeded the outcry in the woods.

"I like not this silence, Sir Oswald," the knight said; when, after an hour's hard work, they were still but two miles from the camp.

"Nor do I," Oswald said. "It seems unnatural. Do you not think, Sir William, that it would be well if all were to take the picket ropes from their horses' necks, and knot them two and two, fastening one end to a waggon and the other to a horse's girth. In that way fifty men-at-arms might be roped on to the waggons, and would aid those drawing them, greatly."

"The idea is a very good one," the knight said.

He rode forward to Sir Eustace de Bohun, who was in command, and informed him of Oswald's suggestion, which was at once adopted. As soon as it was carried out, the dismounted men were ordered to push behind the waggons, which now proceeded at a much faster rate than before.

They were just half-way to the town, and beginning to entertain hopes that they should get through without being attacked, when a horn sounded; and from the forest on both sides, a crowd of men rushed out, and poured a volley of arrows into the convoy. Hasty orders were shouted by Sir Eustace, the ropes were thrown off, and the troops formed up in a double line on each side of the waggons.

The knights and mounted men formed the outside line, and the footmen stood a pace or two behind them; so as to cover them from attack, should the Welsh break through. Oswald's esquire was on one side of him, Roger on the other.

The waggons continued to move forward, for at this point the road was better, running across a bare rock, and the horses were therefore able to draw them along without any assistance. Sir Eustace therefore gave the order for the escort to continue their way, marching on each side of the train.

"We must fight our way through, men," he shouted; "every minute will doubtless add to their numbers."

For a short time the arrows flew fast. But the Welsh bows were not to be compared, in point of strength, with those used by the English archers; and the arrows fell harmlessly upon the armour of the men-at-arms, while on the other hand, the English archers shot so strongly and truly that, after a short time, the Welsh bowmen fell back. As they did so, however, a crowd of footmen poured out from the forest; and, with loud shouts and yells, rushed forward.

"Halt the waggons!" Sir Eustace cried. "Keep good order, men, and we shall soon drive this rabble off."

The archers had time but to send three flights of arrows among their assailants, when these threw themselves upon the line. They were armed with short axes, heavy clubs, and other rough weapons; and for a time, the horsemen kept their order and beat them back; but as the horns continued to sound, the Welsh swarmed down in such numbers that they broke in between their mounted foes; some trying to tear them from their saddles, while others crept beneath the horses and drove their long knives into their stomachs, or tried to hamstring them with their axes.

Then the dismounted men-at-arms joined in the fight, and drove the enemy back beyond the line. Many of the horsemen were, however, dismounted. These joined their mounted comrades when Sir Eustace gave the word to charge the multitude, before they could rally for a fresh attack.

The Welsh went down in numbers before their lances, but so close was the throng that the horsemen were brought to a stand and, slinging their spears behind them, betook themselves to sword and mace. Great was the slaughter of their opponents, but these pursued their former tactics. Horse after horse rolled over in mortal agony and, as they fell, the riders were stabbed before they could recover their feet. Soon they were broken up into knots; and their dismounted companions, with one accord, left the waggons and rushed into the fray, for a time beating back the Welsh.

"It were best to dismount," Oswald cried, and he swung himself from the saddle, just as one of the enemy hamstrung his horse. Roger and the squire did the same, and joined the ranks of the footmen.

"Keep together!" Oswald shouted, to those within hearing; "we can cut ourselves a passage through, in that way, while separately we shall perish."

Ten or twelve men followed his orders and, gathering in a ring, for a time beat off every attack. Looking round, Oswald saw that scarce a man remained mounted. The shouts of the English, and the wild war cries of the Welsh, rang through the air. In a dozen places fierce contests were raging--swords and axes rose and fell, on helmet and steel cap.

In obedience to the shouts of Sir Eustace, who, with three or four men-at-arms around him, was still mounted, the English bands tried to join each other, and in several cases succeeded. Oswald had been near the rear of the