“Alan Stanham.”
But the voice that had called his name belonged to Hugh.
Alan walked forward, his cheeks flaming, to join the team that opposed his lord.
At last the sides were chosen, and each captain gathered his men on opposite sides of the courtyard for an encouraging talk.
There were slightly more than a hundred men on each side.
The two meetings went very differently. From Richard’s side of the courtyard, Alan could hear uproarious cheers and shouts. Richard knew exactly how to get his men in the right frame of mind for a battle.
Hugh, on the other hand, was all business.
“This is how we are going to play,” he said briskly. He was standing with his back to the church wall, with his team gathered before him. His voice, which was pitched normally, was perfectly audible to the men in the last row. “As you know, the field this year has been confined to the main street, so our tactics must be a little different from in the past. The primary ball carriers today will be Hubert Dunning, Rob Walker, Thomas Mannyng, Michael Baxter, and Alan Stanham.”
Alan’s eyes widened in shock as he heard his name.
“They all throw with accuracy,” Hugh said. He grinned. “I was not wasting my time at the games yesterday, as you can see.”
Everyone laughed.
“Each of the ball carriers is to have a circle of men to protect him. I am going to name the men for this job and who it is they are to protect.”
He reeled off a list of one hundred names, twenty for each of the ball carriers. He did it without notes. He had all of the men’s names in his memory.
The men stood in perfect silence under the overcast sky and listened intently.
Hugh continued, “You are to form up as if the ball carrier was a castle and you are the walls that protect him. There must be a space like a courtyard between the wall and the castle so that the thrower will have room to throw the ball without interference and to receive the ball without it being intercepted by the other team. Is that understood?”
The answers came back: “Aye, my lord,” and “Aye, Hugh,” according to how well the speakers knew their captain.
“Good,” Hugh said. “Once we have formed up, we will spread our five castles along the length of the street. The idea is to pass the ball from one castle to the next. Each castle will run the ball as far as it can and, when the pressure becomes too intense for the walls to hold it back, the thrower will pass the ball to the next castle.”
“What happens if the ball is intercepted?” someone called. “The other team will have an open run to our goal.”
Hugh raised his brows. “Oh, are you planning to let the other team intercept the ball?”
Laughter.
“Seriously, that is a good question,” Hugh said. “Two of our castles will be placed defensively, behind the ball. Their job will be to recover the ball and once more pass it forward.”
The men all nodded intently.
“What about those of us who have no assignment, Hugh?” someone called.
“We are the rovers,” Hugh said. “There will be twelve of us, and our job is to watch what is happening and help out where we are needed.”
Hugh looked over his team in front of him. “Does everyone understand what they are to do?”
The men responded with determination:
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“We do.”
“Excellent,” said Hugh. He grinned, his face bright with anticipation. “Then let’s go out there and have some fun.”
For as long as he lived, Alan would remember that camp-ball game. The starting place was by the shoemaker’s on the Strait, halfway between the two goals. As he had explained to his team, Hugh posted three offensive castle formations between the start and Richard’s goal, which was at the Bail wall at the end of the Strait, and two defensive formations between the start and his own goal, which was at the city wall at the end of the Mickelgate.
Alan’s group was the middle castle between the start and the Bail. He stood in the center of his protective wall of men and tried to quiet the pounding of his heart.
Ralf Haywood, one of the chief freemen of the town, stepped forward to start the game, the leather camp-ball in his hands. The line of men protecting Hubert Dunning, the thrower for the first castle, jostled for position. The men whom Hugh had designated as rovers were at the fore as well.
Alan looked at the mass of men lined up on the other side of the ball.
Richard had objected at first to Hugh’s placing men on his side of the line, but the sheriff had ruled that there was nothing in the rules against it. So then Richard had dispatched a group of his own men to hold position behind Hugh’s lines. He retained most of his team in an offensive position, however, clearly intending to catch the ball first and make a strong aggressive run.
Ralf Haywood stepped into the space that had been left empty between the two sides. He did not come all the way into the center of the street, however, but stood near the shoemaker’s stall and tossed the ball high in the air into the middle of the street.
The two teams surged forward to catch it.
As the mass of men stood on the ground, shoving for position, their eyes and hands uplifted toward the descending ball, a figure sailed into the air over the men and swatted it toward the first of Hugh’s offensive formations.
As Alan watched in fascination, Hugh came down horizontally, landed on three men, and disappeared from sight.
A roar went up as the men defending Hubert got the ball to him and began to move up the Strait, easily bulling their way through the line that Richard had posted for defense.
They had progressed a full eighty yards before the rest of Richard’s team caught up and began to slam into them in deadly earnest.
Over the noise of the crowd, Alan heard Hugh’s voice calling calmly, “Throw it.”
Hubert threw, but his throw was short, and the ball was batted away by one of Richard’s knights. With a roar, the rest of his teammates came running to protect him. The direction of the ball reversed as Richard’s team began to push its way south. All that stood between the opposing team and the goal were the two castles Hugh had posted for defense.
They won’t be able to hold, Alan thought as he tried to see what was happening over the heads of the men surrounding him.
A roar went up from the men around the ball.
“What’s happening?” Alan screamed frantically to the men in front of him.
“It’s a pileup,” one of his teammates shouted back. “One of our men got to the carrier and knocked him down. Everyone else has piled on.”
Minutes passed while the sheriff tried to peel off the kicking and pounding men on the pile to see who on the bottom had the ball in his hands.
Finally another roar went up.
“We have it!” the men in front yelled back to Alan. “One of our knights recovered the ball!”
“Get ready,” someone else warned. “It will be coming back our way.”
“Hugh is going to throw it,” someone else said. “Get ready.”
A roar went up from the crowd along the sides of the street.
“He’s got it to Hubert!” one of Alan’s wall knights shrieked. “Get ready to move back if Hubert’s castle can run the ball up the street.”
The thud of players running sounded like a herd of horses, Alan thought. Richard’s men must be racing forward to get in front of the ball.
“Back!” Alan’s defenders began to shout. “Back up to give them room to move.”
Alan followed the movement of his men as they advanced up the street.
“Stop!” one of the knights shouted.
Alan looked up and saw the ball arching in toward him. He stepped to his left, leaped into the air, and caught it.
A roar of approval went up from the surrounding men. Alan grinned and hugged the ball to his chest, and prepared to follow his defenders as far as they could take him.