In their hands they carried axes and hatchets. The stakes were well within range of my archers. I saw that they had sent fifty men across while the horses plodded their way behind. Gospatric would wait until a path had been cleared and then they would charge. I saw the banners of the knights. One or two were obviously Scottish but the majority were English; they were rebels. I shouted, knowing that my captain of archers would hear, “On my command, Dick.” “Aye my lord.” I waited until the men reached the stakes before I shouted, “Release!” Disappointingly less than half of the arrows found a mark. The rain on the strings and flights meant that they had a much shorter range. Eight men were struck. Two stayed down. Dick sent four more flights over before I heard him shout. “Change strings!” They all carried spares. The hiatus as they changed bow strings allowed the enemy to tear out and destroy a third of the stakes but they had paid a terrible price. The arrows and bolts from the castle meant that the ones closest to the river had all been driven from the stakes which remained while Ralph had taken his archers closer to the road and driven those back with their bows as well as their swords. The twenty odd survivors were forced to retreat when Dick’s fresh bow strings took their toll.
