Kings make treaties but it is men who keep or break them. When Sir Thomas of Cleveland is given the task of policing the northern border, he is given a poisoned chalice. His son is given the northern manor of Elsdon and there he is on the front line. He has to fight bandits, enemy lords and traitors from within. Set in the harsh lands of the Scottish borders Sir William comes of age. He becomes a warrior who has the blood of the Warlord. The Bloody Border is the next instalment in the Border Knight series which charts the fortunes of the dynasty begun by Alfraed, the English Knight and 1st Earl of Cleveland.
This book is written from the perspective of Sir Thomas and his son. Sir William has to defend a small motte and bailey castle from, not only Scottish bandits and brigands but also traitors closer to home. he finds allies in strange places and learns more about himself. He realises that his of the Warlord’s blood. Hearkening back to the campaigns of the Earl Marshal the story continues the story of the famous family who saved England from anarchy!
Excerpt
The Roman road ran along the River Rede. It undulated. We passed the old Roman fort. High Rochester had been a thriving village but raids over the years had made it a place of ghosts. We stopped at the fort to water our horses and eat. It afforded a fine view to the north-west towards Scotland. It was as Matthew, John and I were enjoying bread and fresh cheese that my sharp-eyed squire, leaning against the gate, spotted men approaching.
“Lord, I see a horseman leading men on foot. They are coming down the road. They come from the Scottish side of the fort.”
“Climb a little higher and ascertain numbers.” While he did so I shouted, “Stand to!”
Matthew had clambered up to the fighting platform, “It is a knight, by his mail and he has two more men on horses. I guess there are twenty men in total.”
This was not an English knight. He was Scottish. Had we not had attacks on villages and hamlets then his intentions might have been peaceful. I would take no chances. “Walther, line the wall with our archers. Wilfred, have the sergeants mount. John, you stay here with the archers.” I hurried to my horse. I was riding Eagle. I had not ridden him much of late. I now saw that my choice of horse was fortuitous. “Matthew, unfurl the banner. We will let these Scots know who we are. Perhaps it will make them withdraw and we can avoid bloodshed.”
We left the fort and headed through the south gate to the road. The fort and the ridge hid us from view. Once on the road, we trotted towards the Scots. As we crested the ridge we were seen. They were two hundred paces from us. My archers were hidden and they saw just eight men. We might have been mounted but we were outnumbered. If they continued approaching in a loose column then their intentions were peaceful. They halted and it soon became obvious that they were belligerent. The horsemen donned helmets and the men on foot spread out.
I shouted, “Walther, choose your moment well to send your arrows.”
“Aye, lord!”
“Matthew, stay behind me and watch my back.”
“Aye, lord.”
I did not recognise the surcoat of the Scottish knight. Now that they were closer, I saw his spurs. He had a squire but no banner. Only the knight wore mail. The others wore studded leather jerkins. They had open faced helmets. They did not gallop. They were keeping pace with their men on foot. The ones on foot were all dressed differently. None wore a tunic to identify them. They had a variety of weapons. None had a bow. Half wore helmets.
Roger Two Swords observed, “If you wish my opinion, lord, then I would say these are farmers come with their lord to steal English animals.” I heard a murmur of agreement from the others. He was right.
“They have shown their intentions. We wait until Walther has sent his arrows and then we charge at the knight.”
I wondered if Walther had left it too late for the Scots were just one hundred and fifty paces from us when he began to loose his arrows. I need not have worried. He knew his business. The six archers sent eighteen arrows in quick succession. I yelled, “Charge!” as the first of the arrows hit. One struck a horse and unseated the rider. Three others hit the men on foot. We had taken them by surprise. It would not last. I saw more men fall, including the squire. Nine of the men on foot suddenly took off towards the fort. That left two horsemen and five men who could fight. I rode for the knight. He had a spear, as did I. I hefted my shield around and spurred Eagle. I had the advantage for mine was a war horse. The Scot rode a palfrey and small one at that. Eagle had power and managed to gallop faster than the others around me. The mounted man at arms came at my shield side. I concentrated on the knight. The spears of the knight and the man at arms struck at the same time. One spear hit my shield while the other, the knight’s, slid along my helmet. I pulled back and stood in my stirrups as I rammed my spear at the knight’s middle. Although he managed to pull his shield around it did not stop my spear which punched him from his saddle. He was dumped unceremoniously on the ground. Matthew rammed my banner into the side of the head of the man at arms. He fell unconscious at the side of his horse.
When Roger led my men at arms to hack and slash at the remaining five men at arms close to us then it was over on our side of the field. I wheeled Eagle and pricked the throat of the knight, “Yield or die! I care not which it is!”
“I yield!”
