The Battle of Hassett Bridge
4 December 2008

A longer version of this article appeared in a recent edition of The Ambridge Voice, the newspaper of the official fan club Archers Addicts.

William Gaminara as Sealed Knot
member Richard Locke

It was a cold, dark night. Wild winds hurled clouds across the sky and the relentless rain fell like arrows of steel from the heavens. It churned the ground where it struck, transforming the field into a treacherous bog as the weary soldiers pushed on. The call had been made to flee and a frantic rout had begun. Now it was every man for himself.

A young pikeman, Edmund Grundy, heard the cry of 'Havoc' and hastily unbuckled a breastplate from one of the many broken bodies strewn on the field. He'd already searched the man's pockets and found a groat; pitiful compensation for all he'd been through. A rueful laugh racked his aching body as he remembered the eagerness with which he had offered his services, and he was struck by the irony that his brother was fighting for the enemy. But he had a job to do; there was still time to get the papers to Captain Culpepper, papers that could prove vital to the Roundheads. Surveying the field, fatigue cramping his muscles, Edmund spotted the river and headed towards it.

As he trudged on, Edmund became aware of the cavalry wheeling back, preparing for their second charge. He thought again of his brother, Wilfred, and how grand he had looked on his steed; a painful blade of pride sliced through Edmund's easy hatred of him. He was wrenched from these thoughts by the thunder of hooves all around him; more a sensation than a sound. A giant chestnut gelding bore down on him and Edmund's mouth gaped in terror as the beast's hooves pawed the air as it reared, white foam lining its down-turned mouth as it fought the bit. His gaze moved steadily to the cavalryman, meeting the eyes of his adversary. Despite the heat of battle, an icy chill ran through him. The whites of the horse's eyes rolled in alarm as it fell back to earth, impaled on the pike Edmund plunged deep into its breast. Horrified and weaponless, staring in horror at his brother, he scrambled for the river.

The mud hindered Edmund's progress; exhaustion swept over him and time seemed to slow; the men, horses, mud and chaos gradually fading from his senses. As he waited, Edmund became aware of a low growl, an animal sound, building to an agonised roar, then it was over. His morion, designed for sword combat, did little to deflect the shot fired from his brother's short barrelled musket. Facing the stark choice between the course of the war and his brother's life, Wilfred had made the ultimate sacrifice. But was his decision influenced by the fact he and his brother were divided long before the war had started? Was he doing his duty, or was it his desire for Lady Emily, the love of Edmund's life, that pulled the trigger?

Wilfred hastily buried his brother in a shallow grave in what is now known as Millennium Wood. If you walk through the woods on a rainy night you can still hear the desperate roar of the cavalryman as he shot his brother, and the sigh of relief of the pikeman who waited for death.

Archers Addicts.

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