After brief exile, the end came. “The earle of Northumberland, and the lord Bardolfe, after they had been in Wales, in France, and Flanders to purchase aid against King Henrie, were returned backe into Scotland, and had remained there now for the space of a whole yeare: and as their evill fortune would, while the King held a councill of the nobilitie at London, the saide earle of Northumberland and lord Bardolfe, in a dismall houre, with a great power of Scots returned into England, recovering diverse of the earle’s castels and seigneories, for the people in great numbers resorted unto them. Hereupon encouraged with hope of good successe, they entered into Yorkshire, and there began to distroie the countrie.”
The Sheriff of Yorkshire, Sir Thomas Rokeby, is stated to have lured the old warrior to his doom. Sir Nicholas Tempest reinforced him at Knaresborough, and the little army crossed the Wharfe at Wetherby. They had achieved a succession of trifling successes, but now Sir Thomas Rokeby interposed his forces, cut off their retreat, and compelled them to give battle, on the 28th February, 1408, on Bramham Moor, near Hazlewood.
They were brave men who thus stood opposed. Northumberland’s troops were incited by their dangerous position, by the hope of recovering their lost possessions, and by their hatred of the King. On the other hand, the royalists were anxious to gain the honours and rewards which princes bestow.
The Sheriff was not slack to close, but advanced his standard of St. George, and sounded the charge, as Northumberland bore down upon him with his lances, doing battle once more beneath his banner, that displayed the proud emblazonments of the house of Percy.
The onset was fierce and bloody. Lances shivered to splinters; men went down in their blood, wounded and dying; riderless horses burst from the press, and wildly galloped over the moor. Lances were cast aside, as knights and men-at-arms fell-to with sword, and mace, and axe, testing mail, smashing shield and casque, and finding and bestowing wounds and death despite of guarding weapons and tempered plate-mail.
The archers were fiercely at work, pouring their long shafts upon the rear ranks; the footmen face to face with the wild play of deadly bill and thrust of pike. Morions were cleft, corsets pierced, and men fell thick and fast. The battle was hotly maintained, but for a short time, the insurgents being sorely over-matched. Northumberland fell—never to rise again until rough hands stripped off his mail, and held him for the butcher’s work of headsman’s axe and knife. There ended Lord Bardolph’s many troubles, as he fell, a sorely wounded and dying man, into the Sheriff’s hands.
The leaders fallen, no further object for contention remained to the rebels, and the defeat was complete and irretrievable. The tragedy of the battlefield had to be concluded by the rush of the pursuers, eager to maim and slay; and by the useless rally of defeated men, turning fiercely at bay, to claim blood for blood and life for life; and, alas! by the seizure of flying men, doomed to rope and axe in reguerdon of their last act of vassalage to the devoted house of Northumberland.
The Earl’s head, “full of silver horie hairs, being put upon a stake, was openly carried through London, and set upon the bridge of the same citie: in like manner was the lord Bardolfe’s. The bishop of Bangor was taken and pardoned by the King, for that when he was apprehended, he had no armour on his backe. The King, to purge the North parts of all rebellion, and to take order for the punishment of those that were accused to have succoured and assisted the Earl of Northumberland, went to Yorke, where, when many were condemned, and diverse put to great fines, and the countrie brought to quietnesse, he caused the abbot of Hailes to be hanged, who had been in armour against him with the foresaid earle.”
So, after his treacheries, his aspiring ambitions, the once puissant Earl of Northumberland was brought as low as Richard of Bordeaux when he lay upon his bier at St. Paul’s, his set and rigid face, bared from eyebrows to chin, for the inspection of the Londoners, and, in its surrounding swathing of grave-clothes, in its dreadful emaciation, eloquent of the unrecorded tragedy of secret murder.