Chapter Sixteen
The battle lines were drawn.
Almost two miles east of Warborough Castle, the army of Simon de Montfort intercepted the army of King Henry.
In fact, the armies had known they were nearing one another for some time and the lines had already been drawn and the troops placed.
Standards of great houses blew in the breeze as rain intermittently fell, punctuated by periods of bright sun and clear skies.
It was all rather strange but it made for beautiful weather at times, at least clear enough to see the standards of opposing houses as they flew straight and firm in the wind.
It was clear that a battle of epic proportions was lining up.
When all was said and done, Simon had more men but Henry had the advantage of de Winter archers.
They were the best in England. As Maximus, Gallus, and several other knights watched from a ridge just above the troop lines, they could see the archers being placed.
Maximus guessed that Davyss, or his younger brother, Hugh, was placing the archers because it was strategic.
They were behind the infantry and when the sun would come out from behind the clouds, they could see the glint of the archer shields.
This would make the battle more interesting.
As the knights sat and watched, trying to gauge what Henry’s army was doing so they could better place their infantry, they were joined by several other barons.
William de Wolfe was one of them. The legendary Wolfe of the North, father of the de Wolfe twins, Scott and Troy, had joined Simon’s army with one hundred men he’d brought with him from the north.
It wasn’t a good deal of men but, given that they served The Wolfe, it was a crack-squad of soldiers.
Just one of de Wolfe’s men was as good as five regular men.
De Montfort was on horseback, watching the distant army and surrounded by Paeton de Royans, the de Shera brothers, and several other men as de Wolfe approached. When Simon saw William, he motioned the man towards him.
“My lord,” Simon addressed him formally, purely out of respect. “Have you been watching our friends across the field? They have many archers.”
William, a handsome, older man with dark hair, dark skin, and an eye-patch over his missing left eye, studied the army in the distance.
As he did, his sons, who had been back behind Gallus, gravitated towards their father.
The de Wolfe men gathered together for battle, strength on strength, and William acknowledged his sons before turning his attention to Henry’s army.
“They are positioning the archers very far back, almost near the tree line,” William said, and everyone was glued to every word he said. The mighty Wolfe was speaking. “If I were a betting man, it would tell me that the archers are going to cover the infantry as it moves forward.”
On the other side of de Montfort, Gallus grunted in agreement. “De Winter has been known to do that,” he said. “He will shower us with arrows while his infantry charges forward and then we will be fighting off a hail of arrows and unprepared for the infantry when they finally come upon us.”
De Montfort looked at Gallus. “Then what do you want to do?” he asked. “Have you seen enough?”
Gallus nodded, his eyes still on the distant army.
He turned around, looking at the tree line about a quarter of a mile behind them.
“Get the men into the trees,” he said. “That will take the advantage of the archers away from them because the canopy will stop the arrows for the most part. We, however, will place what few archers we have at the very front of our lines to cut down de Winter’s infantry as it approaches.
That should give us a tactical advantage. ”
The Thunder Lord had spoken. Word began to spread back through de Montfort’s lines and soon, eighteen hundred men were moving west by a quarter of a mile, forming lines just inside a long band of trees that stretched, north to south, for about two miles.
As they moved, they could see Henry’s army, with the de Winter banners flying, following them, hopefully to close the gap.
Or it was even possible that they thought de Montfort was retreating.
However, when Henry’s army came to the crest that de Montfort had been on and saw the tree line in the distance, and de Montfort’s men buried within it, they came to an immediate halt.
Now, they understood why de Montfort had moved.
The odds were now even – it would be infantry against infantry.
De Winter pulled the archers back and his men were given the order to draw swords, the flashes of which could be seen in the sunlight.
Gallus and the other commanders, realizing that Henry was going to take the offensive, gave the orders for their men to draw weapons as well.
The knights thundered back to their troops and unmuzzled the war horses, nasty beasts that would bite and kick and trample the enemy to death.
The smell of battle was in the air as the knights slung their shields over their left knee, the usual place for them when heading into battle for easy access in close-quarters fighting.
And, from the looks of it, they would soon be in the middle of exactly that type of battle. Blood was coming.
Maximus remained with de Montfort and de Royans as Gallus and Tiberius headed back to their men.
William was to the south of the de Shera troops and the Lords of Canterbury, represented by Maddoc du Bois, were on the other side of de Montfort to the north.
Maximus could see the great knight at the head of his men, in full battle armor, and he was rather regretful that he’d been unable to converse with the man before they rode to battle.
Maddoc and Stefan had spent most of their time together, in Maddoc’s tent, while Maximus had spent his time with de Montfort.
Even now, Stefan rode with his father, as Gallus had given him permission to do so.
It seemed that all of the sons wished to see battle alongside their fathers, as the de Wolfe brothers rode with William as well.
It gave Maximus reflection, wondering if he would ever know a son who would ride with him to battle. He truly hoped so.
But his thoughts moved back to the battle at hand, away from thoughts of a strong son and avoiding thoughts of his wife.
He couldn’t think of her now, knowing that a distraction such as that could be deadly in his profession, but it was inevitable to think of her and, in so doing, to also think of her father.
Kellen de Lara had been placed to the extreme northern end of the battle lines, far away from the Lords of Thunder and far away from Maximus.
Gallus had made this so, fearful of what would happen if the two men came together.
Gallus has done such a good job of placing Kellen that Maximus hadn’t even seen him or his troops.
The man blended in with the rest of the infantry.
De Montfort, of course, knew nothing about any of this and probably wouldn’t for quite some time.
It was inconsequential, truly, when the fate of a country hung in the balance.
In fact, thoughts of Kellen quickly faded as Maximus noticed the de Winter standard runner bearing the flag for the infantry, signaling them to advance.
Now, the battle was to commence in full and he muttered the fact to de Montfort just as Henry’s infantry, along with several knights, began to move across the field towards them.
Maximus looked over his shoulder to Gallus, several feet away.
“They are moving,” he boomed to his brother. “Do we ride?”
Gallus lifted his sword. “Signal all infantry and knights,” he bellowed to the standard bearers who were behind the first row of infantry. “Charge them!”
The standard bearers spurred their horses, riding in front of the lines, two men heading south while one headed north, signaling the men to move.
And move they did. Holding back a secondary, smaller line of infantry, the majority of de Montfort’s troops charged Henry’s army, who were moving rather slowly across the field.
Once they saw the charge of knights and infantry coming at them, however, everything changed. They ran right at them.
The clash was deafening when the two armies collided.
The Lords of Thunder charged in full-force with Tiberius being the first one to cut down an enemy knight bearing Teutonic-designed armor.
More than that, de Montfort’s men saw very quickly that a good portion of Henry’s troops were not English.
By the design of their weapons, tunic, and mail, it was clear that they were either French or Teutonic.
Foreign enemy troops on English soil simply made Gallus, Maximus, and the rest of them extremely angry. Then, it became a bloodbath.
William de Wolfe, astride his big, black charger, had gone after a group of foreign soldiers with a vengeance.
Scott and Troy rode with their father, cutting down men and battling two big, enemy knights with fairly expensive armor.
When an enemy knight managed to unseat Troy, Scott and William closed in on him and between the two of them, nearly gutted the man.
He fell to the ground, dead, as Troy remounted his steed and took the dead knight’s animal as a prize. But the fighting didn’t end there.