With winter drawing in and with short hours of daylight it was the evening of the third day before they rode across the bridge at Lincoln and up Steep Hill to the castle. The city was crowded with armed men, much more so than when Alan had been here just a few weeks previously. The castle was packed with men and Alan was instructed to have his men set up their tents on the eastern side of the city, where a veritable canvas city had been created. The other Normans, being only men-at-arms and not knights, were directed to the camp without even the courtesy of riding into the castle.
Due to his position and influence, Alan was given a small room in the castle barracks which he was to share with three other Normans. After using a bucket of ice-cold water to wash off the sweat and grime from three days of travel, Alan dressed in a clean tunic and hose before venturing down to the Hall where the two Counts, Robert of Mortain and Robert of Eu, were sitting together with a dozen or so men. A map of the northern route to Durham was unrolled on the table before them, each corner being weighed down by a cup of wine.
“Ah, Sir Alan! Join us please!” exclaimed Robert of Mortain. “We’ve received some information from your men and are looking at how best to use it. I understand that you scouted the way north from here last year for the king, so you know the lay of the land?”
“In general terms,” replied Alan. “I know each bridge and defensible position, but not every tree or god-forsaken swamp.” He was handed a cup of wine and took a sip. “This is not a good map,” he commented after a close examination of the parchment. “What information do we have?”
“The Danes are to be here in two days time.” Robert of Mortain indicated a place on the map.
“Ashby,” said Alan. “South of the Humber and on the edge of the fens. They’re now camped on the Isle of Axholme. Why should they move?”
“Some sort of local celebration. I’m told it’s because the locals haven’t had to pay the royal taxes for two years. The Danes have been invited and it’s not very far from their base.”
Alan scowled, “That seems a weak excuse for them to be there, but knowing your sources the information is likely to be correct. I don’t know that area. It’s well to the east of the direct route to York. You’ll need to get some good local guides. How many men have you got?”
“I’m taking 2,000, and leaving 500 here,” replied the Count.
“And the Danes?”
“Probably about the same.”
“Then let’s pray for surprise, because the Danes are damn good fighters if you give them an even chance, and men on horse don’t perform very well in swamps,” said Alan with more than a hint of sarcasm.
“Amen,” muttered several around the table.
The men marched north well before dawn the next day. Lincoln to Ashby is thirty miles and that evening the army stopped five miles short of Ashby on one of the few patches of higher and relatively dry ground in a flat green landscape of marshes and fens. Numerous scouts were sent to both screen the army from prying eyes and to seek the enemy. Word was received that there was indeed a substantial gathering at Ashby. Late in the day came reports that the Danish ships were as expected at Axholme, not far to the north-west.
The Anglo-Norman army marched north in the fading moonlight, striking camp at three in the morning. An army of 2,000 men does not move quickly at any time, even if many are on horseback, and the darkness did nothing to speed their progress. However, when first light came at half-past seven they were where their generals wished, about a mile south of the village of Ashby- but they were strung out along the narrow and muddy track that led to the village.
The vanguard pushed forward to seize part of the hummock on which the village was built. The remains of numerous fires littered the Green, surrounded by large numbers of men who were just stirring from their blankets after what appeared to have been a night of heavy drinking. Shouts of alarm rose in the air as the approaching army was seen and suddenly the small and evidently poor village burst into activity as men seized weapons and gathered to face the Anglo-Normans who were now running up the road to get into formation.
The Danes, although numerous, were at a decided disadvantage. Taken by surprise they struggled to form a line, their leaders shouting for their own men to form up on them. They had come for a party and not a battle, so while all had their personal weapons at hand, none wore armour. This was a repeat of the mistake made by the Norwegians at Stamford Bridge. Just as the marshland surrounding the town and the narrow tracks to and from the village impeded the arrival of the Anglo-Normans, so the Danes were prevented from making an orderly withdrawal. However, their bellicose response to the approach of the Anglo-Normans indicated that whether they would have chosen to retreat was doubtful, with only a few men at the rear taking the opportunity to slip away along the tracks leading north.
Robert of Mortain was at the centre of the mainly Norman force as it formed line, mounted on his huge destrier and towering above the armoured men-at-arms that crammed on foot into the tiny battlefield that was barely 200 paces wide by 300 paces deep. The Danes stood in a haphazard manner in a line near one end of the battlefield, the line stretching from the swamp to the east to the swamp on the west.
The Norman and English men-at-arms, all with some form of armour and a shield, either round or of elongated kite-shape, formed up and began to hammer their shields with their swords or spears. Groups of Norman archers approached within 100 paces of the Danes and began to draw and loose their deadly barrage. The Danes fell where they stood, unable to reply as they fought only as infantry and with most today lacking shields they were unable to protect themselves from the arrows. After several minutes the Danes, seeing that they would be cut down if they stood, surged forward with a mighty roar, scattering the archers who slipped back through the Norman line and then took position behind. As the mass of Danes was about to hit their line, the Anglo-Norman men-at-arms braced themselves and stepped forward to close with the Danes to prevent them standing back to use their two-handed war-axes, pushing hard with their shields as they stabbed and cut with their swords.
Realising that mounted cavalry would be useless in such a confined battlefield, with no room to charge or manoeuvre, Alan ordered the Wolves to dismount and for Leof and a groom to lead the horses to the rear. Odin made clear his displeasure at missing the fight by tossing his head and sidling as he was led away. No order was given by Robert of Mortain, but about half of the 200 horsemen followed Alan’s lead, discarding lances and drawing swords, forming a reserve force behind the main shield-wall.
“Just like old times, killing Danes!” Edric shouted to Alan above the din of battle. From the shield-wall was heard the clash of weapons on shields, battle-cries and the screams of the wounded as they fell and were trampled underfoot. Edric was standing with his green-painted kite-shaped shield hanging by a leather strap from his left shoulder and resting his single-handed battle-axe on the other shoulder.
English and Norman foot-soldiers continued to stream up the muddy track and join the rear of the army, while a steady stream of the more prudent Danes continued to slip away along the narrow track on the other side of the village.
On foot it was difficult to see how the battle was progressing, which was no doubt the reason that the bulky shape of Count Robert continued to sit ahorse to be able to see over the heads of his own shield-wall. Weighed down by his chain-mail and leather knee-length hauberk and the padded gambeson worn underneath, Alan was sweating despite the cool overcast weather and gentle breeze. Not satisfied with the way that his helmet with its typical Norman nasal guard was sitting on the mail coif that covered his head, he raised his right hand to adjust it so that it sat more firmly in place, although the weight and pressure on his head were giving him a headache.