Crusade

The King did not care one way or the other whether we accompanied him or not; his only condition was a blunt instruction to stay out of his way. So, to comply with his demand and to avoid compromising our relationship with the Normans, we kept a safe distance from his raiding party, but followed close behind. At regular intervals Sweyn and Adela would go on scouting missions to look for signs of a Norman ambush.

Malcolm had only 250 men when we left Scotland, but after each successful plunder he used a company of men as escorts for the cartloads of spoils on their journey back to Dunfermline, thus progressively depleting his force. He travelled in a wide arc from west to east, sacking Carlisle, Brampton, Gateshead and the new Norman castle on the Tyne. He then turned north through Morpeth and Ashington. By the time he approached Alnwick, his force numbered fewer than eighty men.

I sent Adela and Sweyn to make a reconnaissance of Alnwick and check for surprises in its hinterland. Sweyn returned with a report about the garrison and explained that Adela had gone to watch the road from Bamburgh, where we knew there was a significant Norman presence. It was the end of a cold late-autumn day during which a bitterly cold wind had blown in off the North Sea to the east. The chilling shiver of an approaching winter made me feel even more uneasy and compelled me to go to Malcolm to plead with him yet again.

We arrived to find him making camp for the night. He had secreted his men on high ground in the forest to the west of Alnwick. The wind dropped at dusk and the first flurries of winter’s snow swirled around us as the King’s steward offered us some warm mead.

I took Malcolm to one side.

‘Alnwick is a formidable fortress. The garrison is at least thirty strong, and half of them are Norman professionals. You don’t have enough men.’

‘I’ve been looting England since I was a boy. Don’t tell me my business! My men are more than a match for thirty Normans.’

Malcolm had hardly finished his sentence when Adela came into view, at full gallop.

‘To your horses! Norman destriers, two hundred yards behind me!’

Malcolm’s men, although battle-hardened and ferocious, had taken off their mail and picketed their horses; fires had been lit and food was being prepared. The sentries, although posted, were of little value, as the Normans were coming on so quickly. Sweyn and a few others managed to get to their horses, but most were caught on the ground with only their swords and shields for protection.

In the encroaching gloom, the Normans, at least two hundred of them, came through the trees like a wave breaking on the shore and cut through Malcolm’s men ruthlessly. Masked by the trees, it was hard to see them until they were right on top of us.

Edwin was speared in the back of his shoulder by a lance, which pierced his mail hauberk and knocked him to the ground. Sweyn’s horse was killed under him when it was impaled in the neck by the sword of a Norman knight. He managed to get to his feet as the horse fell, but was slashed by several swords as he was surrounded by a circle of destriers. I saw him fall to the ground and his helmet roll off to reveal a deep wound across his forehead. The number of attackers between us meant it was impossible for me to get close to him, so I looked for Adela.

She had positioned herself next to Malcolm and his son Edward and was in the middle of ferocious fighting. After sounding the alarm, she had brought Malcolm and his hearthtroop a string of horses from the picket lines, and they had managed to get mounted to fight on more equal terms. But they were heavily outnumbered. I tried to reach them, but my path was blocked by a mass of men and horses.

Then I suffered a terrible blow to the back of my head and my memory of Alnwick came to an abrupt end.

Consciousness only returned two days later, when I became aware of hazy shapes floating above me and a distorted voice echoing in my ears. Slowly, I was able to focus better and hear more, but with greater clarity came another sensation — an almost unbearable throbbing head. The only respite to be found was in the comfort of bouts of sleep. Only after several days did the pain diminish, and I eventually began to see and hear clearly.

By then, I knew the fate of my friends. Edwin was not badly hurt; the lance had made a deep gouge in his shoulder but had only hit muscle. With the aid of a sling, his arm was healing well.

Sweyn had fared much worse. The gash to his forehead ran from his left temple across his forehead and over his right cheekbone. The nose guard of his helmet had saved his life, but his handsome young face had suddenly become the battle-scarred mien of a thirty-year-old warrior. He had also suffered several deep cuts to his arms, back and shoulders and had lost a lot of blood.