Trotting forward Robert’s men rapidly closed the gap and, though the odd horseman broke the Saracen ranks while many had trouble keeping their horses still, the enemy line seemed solid. There was no horn for Robert’s next command, merely the dipping of his ducal banner and, as if on some kind of parade, all three of his mounted lines spun round and began to trot away from their foes.
Horses, even well-trained mounts, are excitable; men wound up for battle and a possible death are likewise taut so it took few of the Saracen cavalry to break ranks, either through their own excitement or a disinclination for the remainder to keep their horses under control. Once one horse began to race it was very hard to stop the others from doing likewise, and the more that broke ranks the harder it became for the mass. The ground beneath the Norman hooves began to tremble as, in ragged groups, the Saracens began to charge, each horse and rider seemingly determined to be the first to engage, and within no time at all the whole of the enemy cavalry was in motion.
Robert’s banner dipped again bringing round his lines to once more face their foes. That completed, the blowing horn set the lances into a canter. To the watching eye it must have seemed like the first line would be swept away by the now hurtling enemy. Did al-Hawas see how close these Normans were to each other, understand that, with each knee nearly touching that of his nearest confrere, the Normans presented an unbreakable line of sharp-tipped lances aimed forward and held in arms that had the power to keep them there even when struck?
The two groups clashed, one screaming, the other silent. When the Saracens struck Robert’s line it seemed, given their pace, not only should it break, the edges must be overlapped to surround him. Ripple it certainly did, for the Normans faced a furious attack and it was impossible for the strongest knight to avoid recoiling when either a rider or his horse became impaled on their lance point. Within moments it was sword and axe work as men hacked at each other, the figure of Robert Guiscard prominent and murderous in his action.
The instruction to break was not his to give; that came from Ralph de Boeuf, commanding the second line and as soon as his horns blew, Robert and his men disengaged and moved away to the right and left, fighting to get clear, only just in time. De Boeuf’s men now struck the disordered enemy with their fresh line of lances, riders who were not charging now but milling about in an unruly mass, which cost them dear. Yet soon the engagement became a repeat melee, requiring replication of what had gone before when Robert, having taken command of the third line, ordered de Boeuf to break off his attack.
Roger and Serlo de Hauteville seemed of one brain in the way and the time at which they moved, both coming forward, as disciplined as their confreres, to take the Saracens in flank and drive them towards an ever more crowded centre. As the mass increased, fewer and fewer of the enemy could properly deploy their weapons, leaving those at the perimeter exposed and outnumbered, the greatest aid to their survival being the bodies of men and mounts either dead or writhing beneath the hooves of those fighting.
Whoever commanded the army of al-Hawas, knowing his cavalry were in difficulties, ordered a general advance to aid them, but by the time they came up, the first Norman warriors had broken through to confront them, this compounded by the men led by Serlo and Roger having come round the flanks to the enemy rear. Behind the still-fighting Normans Robert’s milities too had come forward and were either piking their enemies or slashing at the horses’ fetlocks with knives to bring the rider down, those same weapons employed to kill, their task to ensure the mounted Saracens could take no more part in the battle.
Without commands, the conroys facing the enemy foot soldiers had formed a single line and were once more cantering forward to engage across the whole field of battle, their swords and axes, already dripping blood, ready for more work — Roger on one end and Serlo on the other. The sight made the untrained bands hesitate, which was fatal to their endeavour, for the Normans hit them like a tidal wave, rolling them back onto their fellows. Brave men commanded them and tried to effect a rally but to do so was to be identified and singled out for a swift death. As they went down so did any cohesion, and what started as a slight retreat soon turned into a rout.
There was no order in the Norman line now: it was each man riding as fast as his tired horse would carry him, to employ a swinging weapon upon the fleeing necks and backs of the men who had come so confidently to fight them. Behind them came Robert’s levies to ensure that anyone who fell was quickly despatched, so that when they crested the opposite mound the field behind was littered with dead bodies, few of them Normans.
At their centre, covered from head to foot in blood, as was his horse, now with its head lowered and its flanks bellowing to suck in air, stood Robert de Hauteville and he turned to look up at the ramparts of Enna. He could not see Ibn-al-Hawas but he guessed him to be there, just as he knew the Saracen emir would have him in view. Taking his banner from the herald who bore it into battle at his side, he raised and pointed it at the fortress as if to say, ‘These men have died and you will be next.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A month later the whole Norman army could see that for what it was, idle boasting. Though great honour could warm the breast of every lance he led, they had not been able to prevent the bulk of the defeated army from retiring into the town and castle. Given such a defence, taking the outworks that protected the town would be hard enough, never mind the fortress, and it was as plain as a pikestaff that the attacking army was dangerously overexposed, far from a secure base as well as suffering in the heat of high summer.
There was to their rear no easily defendable stronghold to which they could retire, no source of men to replace the losses they suffered, more from disease than in battle. The land around Enna, standing as it did on a high rocky plateau, was not fertile as it was in valleys and coastal plains, while to top all that, Robert seriously lacked the kind of strength and equipment needed to take one of the most formidable bastions in Sicily.
Attempts to bring Ibn-al-Hawas to a parley by burning his fiefs produced no results either. From his high elevation he could see how many manor houses and watermills the Normans could burn, how much light could be generated by glowing night-time fields of smouldering crops. If many of his subjects, in order to appease the invaders, came to the Duke of Apulia with tribute and offers of allegiance, Robert knew them to be only as strong as his presence; once he had departed they would renege.
Relations with Roger wilted in the debilitating heat: if Robert could not admit they were static to no purpose, Roger could. After much squabbling the younger de Hautevilles were sent to foray beyond the confines of Enna. Roger and Serlo rode out at the head of three hundred lances and raided all the way south to Agrigento, plundering in lands that had not seen conflict for decades. They were thus, on their return, laden with spoils and it did nothing for Robert’s temper to have them distribute enough booty to satisfy his whole army, given such generosity only underlined the uselessness of what he was about.