Post by King Adam Aberdeen I on Apr 3, 2009 10:25:41 GMT -6
The Battle of Galashiels
The Gryphon Army forged their way across Scotland, gaining momentum as they marched in support of the King. By the time they reached Edinburgh the army was some 100,000 strong. Men from all walks of life...potters, smithies, tanners, scribes, and soldiers... noble and peasant alike.
Now over 420 Kilometers (260 miles) they had marched from Skye to the Scone of Scotland... They gathered at the base of the King's Castle, waiting for the men that would lead them against the English.
Some 600 kilometers away from Edinburgh, deep thru the heart of England and to the far west coast, was a brew beginning to boil over in a place called Wales. Timing was something Adam had planned on, and now his army was in position... now all he could do was hope Lady Eirian was able to rally the call to arms.
Though he was feeble and nearly unable to stand by himself... King Robert the Bruce leaned against the parapet overlooking the army below.... his eyes watered as he looked to Shaden, then his successor, Adam... "Mo'r Triath...yer army awaits yae..." Then Adam held the gold and black gryphon flag aloft and the crowd roared...
South, out of Edinburgh, the army marched... drums sounded the rhythmic beat of standard... horns signaled commanders' orders... An army of men marched, unified in one thing... seeking freedom...a new life...
The English had marched north from London, then onward to Newcastle, where they resupplied for the march into Scotland... Hearing of the loss at Glasgow, the English garrison there decimated... the English commander knew he must meet the Scots head on... knowing full well, the Gryphon army would attempt to stop them.
Days later, in a open field, just a low-lying area, with nothing but rolling hills, nestled between a small community named Galashiels and her sister towns of Melrose and Newton... the two armies faced one another... less than a mile apart.
On the south was the English flag in the center, surrounded by the Maubrey red bull banners... There were thousands of blue-black uniforms... some on horseback, some infantry... Trebuchets and ballistas at the ready...
The two largest, and best armed, armies in history met on a field of battle... This was the battle that had been foretold by many people...
While the Battle for Ireland was going strong, some 600 kilometers away from Dunlace, at the Battle of Galashiels in Scotland, the large arrows of the English ballistas whistled thru the air… its destination those trebuchets behind Gryphon lines… its intent, to destroy them long before those weapons could hurl death back at them…
The wind flew the banners of the Red Bull near a commander as he raised his arm… “signal the archers…” he yelled… and signal flags waved back and forth… men with bows stepped forward and in consequential commands, aimed, and fired… the sky darkened with the arrows in flight…
On the opposite side of the field, the command and sequenced actions were the same… the umbrella of death lurching toward the opponent…
Lines of men, the infantry of both armies, move forward to the horns and drums… Spears leveled for a charge, both lines at the double-quick… The result? Men screaming, horse whining, in pain as the arrows found targets… Just as men fell, others moved up to reform the lines… Sergeants stood before the lines of soldiers, walking backwards, to keep the lines abreast…
To the flanks of the large formation, the two cavalries clashed in a melee of men and horse, swords swinging, men screaming…
“Prepare the buchets…” the Celt commander ordered… “Fire when ready…” came his subsequent command seconds later… Balls of fire, stone, or metal… whatever could be launched, were hurled at the advancing lines… The tool dealt out death and dismemberment with every shot of a ballista or trebuchet.
The mayhem in the middle thickened as the two lines, charging at one another, exploded into a resounding clash of steel, screams, and blood.
Adam sat upon the white stallion next to the banner of the Gryphon. He was surrounded by generals who sounded commands…
As the battle raged on, Adam could see units from various countries of the alliance; each promise kept. This fight was not just Scotsmen but men of various nations; differing cultures; all fighting for one thing - Freedom.
It was then that he pointed as the lines seemed to buckle in the middle… The general gave the command to “envelope”, and signal flags waved to and fro… a third and fourth line of infantry formed on the flanks to meet the next line of Englishmen… then the flanks of the first and second griffin lines bent inwards, like a shape of a bull’s head and horns… nearly enveloping the enemy… it was coordinated to suck in the English, and close around them…
The general then looked to Lord Aberdeen and looking to the Master Archer… “ARCHERS…” he resounded… “READY…. AIMMM…. LOOSE…” then a volley of arrows streamed toward the English lines…
For three days, the momentum of battle shifted from side to side… with the quick reaction of valiant men changing the tide of war… Tens of thousands lost their lives in those three days… the ground of Scotland soaked red with the blood of both sides. Breaks in the violence of battle would last only long enough for one side to gain an advantage, then rekindle the attack.
Once again, Lord Aberdeen sat upon the white horse, advising the generals and watching his army strike at the very heart of the enemy. Finally, his support had arrived and he ordered it emplacement. Once he saw its complement ready, he moved toward them.
Adam spurred his horse and rode to the left flank, far behind friendly lines… “Loose the cannon… trebuchets then troops…” he called from his steed. The commander saluted… then turned to his crews… “Prime and Load…” he barked orders… “Aim… elevation 500…” the men then lifted the end of the cannon and put in a wooden block… “FIRE !!!”… the cannon erupted in smoke and fire, as it belched out a 20 pound ball of steel….
The first round missed its target and the men quickly reloaded, adjusted the aim according to the engineer, and fired again… this time, the round struck the enemy trebuchet, blowing off the top half and tilting it on its side…
Time and time again the men fired the cannon… first firing at trebuchets, then at the cavalry, then at the formations of men…
By the eve of the sixth day, a white flag, mounted on a broken lance, was carried down into the valley amongst the dead and wounded. Adam rode down into the valley to meet the flag and its carrier. Not far behind Adam, was an entourage of generals and Gold Talons…
The man upon the horse, carrying a white flag spoke, his voice barely audible… his clothes stained red… The man held the white flag high as he slid from his steed and knelt down before Lord Adam and his men… “MiLord… I would appreciate you accepting the surrender of the remnants of the King’s army. All the commanders are dead… our logistics are spent… and all we have left is a rag-muffin of an army. The will and ardor of battle is spent… victory is impossible… and we submit ourselves at yer mercy…”
Adam and his generals invite the remaining English leaders to a tent within the Gryphon compound… It was there that a mere lieutenant signed over the remaining 6,000 men contingent of a 75,000 man English army. In the end, Adam allowed the lieutenant to retain his sword… and take his beaten army south from Scotland.
Five days later, Adam and his generals had made plans for an invasion into the heart of England… Knowing the war could continue for months, Adam was resolved that the English was beaten and that a Scot force of 90,000 men would eventually be stationed where they could maintain control of each and every city. The invasion of England, and the last stage of the unifying the Gaelic Nations had begun.
Leaving his command to his senior field commander, Adam and his Gold Talons rode north and west across Scotland toward Skye… their destination – Turas Lan….