Chapter Fifteen
The French had no intention of leaving Castle Acre.
French scouts had been out in the countryside as the army from Narborough approached from the north, so by the time the de Winter troops were on the outskirts, the French had set up a second line and were ready for them.
It was a nasty battle from the start.
The French army had scavenged nearly everything of value out of the village of Castle Acre, leaving burning homes and dead peasants in their wake.
They stole horses and livestock, even dogs.
The de Winter army could hear the screaming from the villagers, but they were blocked from helping by the line of French who were intent to chase them away.
The de Winter war machine, however, would not be chased away; Bric ordered his archers to unleash, and as the French rebels began to retreat back into the burning village, the de Winter army charged after them.
But the French soon fragmented, meaning the de Winter army also had to fragment in order to chase them down, and there were pockets of brutal fighting in the village and near the gatehouse of Castle Acre.
The castle wasn’t a main residence for the Earl of Surrey, but it was strategic, and the earl stationed about five hundred men to protect both the castle and the village, but it wasn’t nearly enough against the one thousand Frenchmen who wanted to steal the castle and destroy the village.
As soon as the army made headway into the village, Daveigh headed to the castle with a contingent of bodyguards to speak with the garrison commander while Bric took charge of the fighting.
He sent Mylo to the east, Pearce to the west, while he and the main body of the army plowed right down the middle of the town.
The streets were narrow, the alleys dark and dangerous, and half of the town was burning by the time Bric and his men began to gain the upper hand against the enemy.
But it was the French army’s fault that they began to lose ground.
Since they’d stolen so much, they weren’t moving very swiftly and the de Winter troops were able to take back horses, cows, and other livestock that had been stolen.
There was a livery near the gatehouse of the castle, one with a big corral, and the de Winter army began stashing the reclaimed livestock there.
It began to fill up with frightened horses and cows, a few calves, and many goats, one of which tried to ram those who were attempting to help it.
It was a rare humorous moment as Bric watched two of his soldiers get mowed down by a very angry Billy goat as they were trying to lead the creature to safety.
And the fight went on long into the day.
As Keeva had predicted, there was some mist hanging heavy over the land as the sun rose, a mist that didn’t quite burn off even in midday.
Mylo returned from the east after several hours of fighting to report that he’d either chased away or killed the French factions he’d been fighting against, but at the same time a report came from the west that the French were moving on the Castle Acre Priory, a large monastic enclave west of the castle.
Bric shifted his manpower over to the priory, and there was heavy fighting in the fields all around it.
It was clear very early how badly the French wanted Castle Acre.
It was not only a rich castle, but minimally staffed for such a large place because of its somewhat remote situation.
Even though the location was out of the normal paths of travel, it was still strategic because it was near the mouth of the River Ouse, and the port city of King’s Lynn, and although the Honor of Narborough controlled the river into the heart of England, Castle Acre sat in a position to control near the river.
If the French took it, they could permit French ships to dock in the river, bringing more men and supplies.
At least, that was what Bric assumed their intentions were.
It would be a terrible situation for Narborough and its neighbor to the north, Castle Rising, to have a French outpost so close.
Castle Acre was under threat of becoming a French lair and Bric wasn’t going to allow that to happen.
In truth, it was a much more serious situation than he’d originally thought and even though he didn’t have the military support that he’d had at Holdingham, he was under the belief that he could hold the line at Castle Acre and beat the French back.
The High Warrior would not fail.
Surprisingly, the new recruits had done a good job at fighting the French.
Bric had taken about half of them with him, and the rest of them were divided up between Pearce and Mylo.
The first hour into the fight, Bric was screaming at the men as he used to before his injury.
He even knocked a head or two when they didn’t listen to him fast enough.
For the seasoned de Winter troops, it did them good to see Bric back to his old form.
This was the High Warrior they knew, the man who wouldn’t hesitate to insult you if you deserved it, but would also kill for you if need be.
Seeing Bric return to the man they once knew was a huge boost for the de Winter army and as the day dragged into night, they fought with a vengeance.
The battle continued as a moonless sky unfolded.
The priory was lit up with torches, from every window it seemed, casting rays of light into the darkness beyond.
The de Winter army had created something of a barrier around the priory, preventing the French from getting close even though some of them had run off into the nearby woods only to emerge with a battering ram.
They used the battering ram to push aside de Winter men, who retaliated by trying to take the battering ram away from them.
It had been quite a struggle, with the de Winter men finally emerging the victors, and Bric watched it all from astride his big war horse.
Liath had been unmuzzled at the start of the battle and, even now, he snapped at men who came too close or used his big hooves to knock them down.
Bric was quite certain the horse had killed at least one man by kicking him with his powerful rear legs.
The horse was intelligent, experienced, and mean, something Bric adored in the beast.
For the first time in a very long while, Bric felt like he was finally back to his top form.
Whatever had happened with his panic attack back at Narborough, he was feeling as if he had overcome it.
He was too strong to let something so foolish take him down.
With Liath beneath him, and with his beloved sword in-hand, it was an unstoppable combination and Bric felt as if he could take on the entire world.
As the fighting went on around him, Bric remained at the door to the priory to cut down any French who managed to make it through the line of de Winter men in the distance.
Two massive oak and iron doors were shut and bolted from the inside, and Bric remained in front of the doors and beneath the great Norman arch of the entry.
He’d been here before, a few times, and was awed every time at the sheer size and scope of the priory.
It was truly a massive place. As he remained in place, watching the pockets of fighting and guarding the door with a couple of hundred men that would not be moved, Pearce thundered up on his war horse.
“Well?” Bric demanded. “What is the status of the battle?”
Pearce tipped his helm back and wiped at the sweat that was rolling into his eyes.
“The fire in the town has stopped for the most part,” he said.
“When we drew the fighting over to the priory, the soldiers from the castle emerged to help put it out. They also rounded up the villagers, and most of them are now in the castle for safety.”
Bric moved Liath out from the doorway, looking over towards the village. It was a black outline against the dark sky and he couldn’t see much, but he could see that the castle was lit up with pinpricks of light, torches burning in the darkness.
“That is good news,” he said. “What about the livestock?”
“I think we were able to get back most, if not all, of it. The soldiers moved everything back into the castle for safe keeping.”
Bric was pleased to hear that the villagers and their livestock were at least safe from the French. “That is good news,” he said. “The French were more determined than I thought they would be.”
Pearce finished wiping his eyes and put his helm back on. “Indeed,” he said. He, too, could see the pockets of fighting. “They want the priory badly.”
Bric glanced back at the towering structure. “You know why, don’t you?”
“Because it’s there? Because they can?”
Bric chuckled. “Nay,” he said. “This is a Cluniac establishment, meaning the monks here are loyal to the Abbot of Cluny in France. They are loyal to a French abbot and our French friends out there must feel that this is something that belongs to them. I am sure they thought it would be an easy thing to seize the priory.”
Understanding dawned with Pearce. “Now it makes sense,” he said. “I had not realized that about Castle Acre Priory.”
Bric nodded. “Now you know,” he said. “But the monks want no part of these rebels, so I imagine this is a rather strange situation for them. They are on English soil, and depend on the English for protection, but they are loyal to the French dioses.”
It was an odd situation, indeed. Leaving Pearce by the door, Bric headed out to the clusters of fighting to get a look of the situation for himself, hoping to make short work of the French that were still resisting.
He’d done some serious damage in town against the enemy, but now that they were out in the open, he intended to do more damage.
The High Warrior was on the prowl.