But though in the multitude of counsellors there may be wisdom, in the multitude of confidants there is little chance of secrecy; and through some unknown channel Stephen became aware of his enemy’s intentions. Avoiding Roxburgh, he retaliated upon other Scottish districts the injuries which had been inflicted on the north of England; but as he began to entertain suspicions of the fidelity of certain barons, and his army was weakened, as well by the want of provisions as by the religious scruples—either real or pretended—of several of his followers who objected to bearing arms in Lent, he soon retraced his steps towards the south, first possessing himself of Bamborough on his passage through Northumberland, and placing in it a garrison on which he could depend. The castle belonged to Eustace Fitz-John, a powerful baron, of whose fidelity the king was so mistrustful, that, contrary to all feudal precedent, he caused his person to be seized whilst in actual attendance at court upon a summons of military service; and Eustace was not restored to liberty until he yielded up to Stephen the key-stone of his power in the north, long famous as the ancient residence of the royal race of Ida, and the strongest fortress in Northumberland.[241]
The conclusion of the Easter festival set at liberty the scrupulous chivalry of the age, to enter with renewed zest upon the pursuits of war; and David was fast approaching Durham, when a mutiny amongst the unruly Galwegians threatened both the life of the king, and the safety of his army. A report, judiciously fabricated for the occasion, that the enemy was approaching, restored order for the moment; the mutineers flew to arms to repel the foe, and David at once leading them to Norham, employed them, with the rest of his army, in besieging the castle. The garrison surrendered after a short resistance, and it affords a curious instance of the impregnability of the fortresses of that age against the limited means of offence available to besieging armies, that it was accounted a disgraceful occurrence when nine men-at-arms, all of whom were inexperienced, and the majority suffering from wounds, hopeless of relief from their lord the Bishop of Durham, yielded a well victualled castle to the whole force of Scotland! An offer was made to restore Norham to the bishop, if he would consent to hold it as a fief from the Scottish king; but as the proposed terms were declined, it was immediately reduced to ashes.
The success at Norham was counterbalanced by a sally from Werk, in which the indefatigable castellan of that fortress overthrew a body of knights and men-at-arms, capturing several of the party, whom he put to ransom, and carrying off a convoy of provisions intended for the army of the Scots, which by this daring feat he once more drew around his walls. Again the siege of Werk was converted into a blockade when David marched to join the force, collected by the exasperated Eustace Fitz-John, in an attempt to recover Bamborough; but though the burghers of that place were driven, with considerable loss, from an outwork in front of the castle, no permanent impression was made upon the fortress itself, and it was useless to attempt a blockade without the assistance, and co-operation, of a fleet.
Whilst the king was engaged before the castles of Norham and Werk, the intractable division under William Fitz-Duncan, of little use in a regular siege, had been dispatched to the more congenial occupation of harrying Craven, and the adjoining districts of the shires of York and Lancaster. The inhabitants assembled to resist the invaders, and upon the 10th of June took post in four divisions at Clitheroe on the Ribble; but their courage failing at the sight of the enemy, they broke and fled at the first onset. As this was the first occasion upon which the hostile parties had met in arms in the open field, the result increased the audacity of the victors, who, spreading over the face of the country, plundered and wasted it on every side, surpassing if possible their former excesses; but laying the foundation of future retribution in the very extent to which they carried their ravages.
Hitherto the barons of Yorkshire had looked upon the distant warfare with lukewarm indifference, each mistrusting his neighbour, and hardly knowing whether to oppose the Scots, as became the trusty partizans of King Stephen, or to support them as loyal subjects of the Empress Queen, whose standard was already raised by Robert of Gloucester, and her other friends, in the south and west. But when the war was now fast approaching their own neighbourhood, when their own lands were about to be plundered and their own vassals to be put to the sword, it was time to shake off their apathy, and out of the very excesses of the foe arose their strongest bond of union. Archbishop Thorstein preached a holy war; and through every parish, priests bore the relics of the saints, with all the imposing paraphernalia of the Roman Catholic religion, proclaiming it to be the duty of every Christian man to rise in defence of the church against barbarians, hateful alike to God and man. Ilbert de Lacy and Robert de Bruce, the youthful William Albemarle and the aged Walter de Ghent, summoned their followers to meet at Thirsk; and even Robert de Mowbray, then a mere child, appeared in armour at the head of his vassals to animate the courage of the numerous retainers of his house. To the same place of meeting hurried William Percy and William Fossard, Richard de Courcy and Robert d’ Estoteville; the knights of Nottinghamshire under William Peveril, and the chivalry of Derbyshire under Robert Ferrers: whilst Stephen, too much occupied to leave the south of England, dispatched a chosen body of knights, under Bernard de Balliol, to join the flower of the midland and northern chivalry in repelling the inroads of the Scottish foe. Walter Espec, a baron of vast possessions, whose age and experience, united to a gigantic stature and a ready eloquence, marked him out as a leader fit to inspire confidence and exact obedience, reminded the confederate nobles of the glories of their ancestry, and pointed out to their retainers that the enemy was little better than an unarmed mob.[242] Ralph, the titular bishop of the Orkneys, was commissioned, in the place of the aged and infirm Thorstein, to grant a general absolution to the army, which, strengthened by the consolations of the ministers of religion, and encouraged by the exhortations of military experience, viewed the impending contest in the light of a holy war, and prepared with alacrity for battle.
After waiting in the neighbourhood of Bamborough until the arrival of some expected reinforcements from Carlisle, Cumberland, and Galloway, David moved southward to effect a junction with William Fitz-Duncan. Their forces, when united, amounted to twenty-six thousand men, and as most of the historians of the period represent this army as “innumerable,” it affords some clue for estimating what was in those days looked upon as a countless host. David was well aware of the character of the army against which he was advancing, and with the concurrence of his most experienced officers, he determined upon opposing his own knights and men-at-arms to the mailed chivalry of England; rightly calculating, that, if he once broke through the rival phalanx, his light armed irregulars, of little real use in the first onset, would easily complete the victory. But the native warriors of Alban, elated with the victory at Clitheroe, and vainly imagining that the flower of England’s knights and men-at-arms would fly before their impetuous charge, like the undisciplined peasantry and townsmen of the district, loudly exclaimed against such tactics. “Of what use were their breastplates and their helmets at Clitheroe?” exclaimed the Scots. “Why trust you to these Normans?” added Malise Earl of Strathearn, when David still remained unmoved; “unprotected as I am, none shall be more forward in the fight.” “A great boast,” retorted Alan Percy, “which for your life you cannot make good.” Alarmed at the probable consequences of dissension at such a moment, David reluctantly yielded the point in dispute, and the post of honour in the approaching conflict was assigned to the men of Galloway.
One course yet held out a fair hope of success—a surprise—and David determined to make the attempt.[243] He ranged his army in four divisions, the Galwegians marching in the van, with all who claimed to share with them the honour of the first attack. The contingent from Cumberland and Teviotdale composed the second division, with the knights, archers, and men-at-arms under Prince Henry and Eustace Fitz-John, by whom the battle ought to have been commenced. Then followed the men of the Lothians, Lennox[244] and the Isles; whilst the king in person brought up the rear with the Scots and Moraymen, and his own body-guard of English and Norman knights.
The morning of Monday the 22d of August favoured the design of the Scots. A dense fog hung over the country, and under cover of the mist the Scottish host rapidly advanced in unwonted order; for the commands of David were rigorous in prohibiting his men from firing the villages along their route, according to their usual practice. They had reached the Tees, and were already crossing, when they were accidentally discovered by an esquire, who galloped back to Thirsk, to warn the confederate barons of the rapid approach of the hostile army.[245] In the hope of yet averting the contest, perhaps also to gain time, Robert de Bruce and Bernard de Balliol,—names singularly associated as the emissaries of an English army to a Scottish king,—rode forward to hazard a last appeal, pledging themselves, in the joint name of the confederates, to obtain for Prince Henry the grant of Northumberland. Bruce, in particular, warned the king of the danger he was about to incur, in entering into a contest with the very men upon whose aid he most relied, for curbing the refractory Galwegians, or for repressing his own disaffected subjects; whilst, with tears in his eyes, he besought him to be mindful of his ancient friendship, and by accepting the conditions of peace, to put a stop to the frightful enormities of his followers. The easy and kindly nature of David was fast yielding to the entreaties of Bruce, who had been his friend from childhood, when William Fitz-Duncan, a man of high spirit and the chief promoter of the war, angrily interposed, and reproaching the latter with a breach of fealty to his lord, prevailed upon his uncle to break off the conference; on which the two barons, formally renouncing their allegiance to the Scottish king, turned their horses heads and rode back to share the fortunes of the confederate army.
The delay was fatal to the attempted surprise; for it gave time to the army of the barons to clear the town of Northallerton, and to take up a favourable position, two miles further to the northward, upon Cutton Moor. A ship’s mast, bearing upon its summit the consecrated host, and surrounded by the banners of St. Peter of York, St. John of Beverley, and St. Wilfred of Ripon, was elevated upon a waggon, and marked the centre of the army, around which were grouped dismounted knights and men-at-arms; whilst from the immediate neighbourhood of the sacred standard, Bishop Ralph and his priests dispensed blessings, and absolution, throughout the host. The front of the position was covered by a line of archers, with a body of men-at-arms in support; all the horses were then removed to the rear under the charge of a mounted guard; and the remainder of the English forces—townsmen, apparently, and the array of the county—were ranged around the real strength of the army in the centre.[246]
Levelling their spears, long the national weapon of the Scottish infantry, and with wild cries of Albanach! Albanach! the ancient slogan of the warriors of the north, the first division of the assailants rushed to the charge; and such was the impetuosity of their onset, that the front ranks of the English reeled beneath the shock, and were borne back in confusion upon the dismounted knights around the standard. But then came to pass all that David had anticipated, and the unprotected lines of Scottish spearmen recoiled, and were dashed back like breakers from off a reef, before the steady discipline of that animated wall of iron. Broken, but not discouraged, they cast aside their fractured and useless lances, and, with drawn swords, once more flung themselves, with reckless valour, upon the foe: but the front ranks of the English had now rallied, and, from behind their dismounted comrades, the archers poured in a storm of arrows, those fatal Norman weapons which won so many a field for England in the days of old. Unsheltered from the shower of missiles by any defensive armour, rank after rank of the assailants went down before the English bowmen, the best and bravest of their leaders falling in fruitless efforts to penetrate the fatal line; and already the attack was slackening, when Prince Henry brought his mounted division into the battle, and the Norman chivalry of Scotland, with the disciplined retainers of Eustace Fitz-John, bore down with levelled lances to the charge. His success was complete. That part of the English army which sustained the shock, was ridden down and swept from the field; and the prince, elated with his easy triumph, and imagining that the whole Scottish army was pressing on in support, wheeled round in the rear of the English position to complete a victory not yet achieved, and charging the mounted guard left to protect the horses, broke and pursued them for many miles. His error was fatal; for the critical moment of the day had arrived, and the English were rapidly giving way, none holding their ground except the veteran phalanx in the centre, when suddenly a gory head was raised aloft, and the voice of one who was never subsequently recognized, loudly proclaimed that the king of Scotland was slain. More than once has such a cry turned the fortune of the day against a brave, but undisciplined, army. Upon the field of Assingdon it won the realm of England for Canute; at Hastings it all but wrested the same prize from the Norman William, though he led the flower of Europe to the field; and it decided the day upon Cutton Moor in favour of the confederate army. No longer pressed by the division of Prince Henry, the English rallied at the cry; and the Galwegians, who for two hours had prolonged their attack with desperate and unflinching courage, until the last of their chieftains fell beneath an English arrow, panic stricken at their loss, turned and fled the field; whilst the confederates, promptly taking advantage of the confusion, advanced at once to the charge. The Saxons of the Lothians broke at the first onset; and though David, leaping from his horse, and placing himself at the head of the reserve, bravely endeavoured to stem the advance of the enemy, the Scots wavered and were carried away in the rout; whilst the king, maddened at the thought of defeat, refused to fly until he was forced off the field by his own body-guard. High above his head still fluttered the ancient Dragon of Wessex, contradicting the report of his death, and numbers who had been swept away in the first confusion of the flight, disengaging themselves from the crowd of fugitives, and rallying around the banner of their king, presented a formidable front to the advancing foe. The foremost of the pursuers were either cut down or captured, and the rest soon gave up following the Scottish army, which, without further molestation, retreated in perfect order to Carlisle.[247]