He and Retter headed through the woods for Daun but before they were half way there he realized that more recruits were headed across their path for the army, whose ever it was. Eventually, a horseman trotted up and answered Jacobus' shouted question.
"Our army is marching for Prince-Bishop Everard de la Marck, of Luttich (Lige.) You can tell us by our red and yellow banners. De la Marck has declared war on the Archbishop of Trier, Lothar con Metternich, for not buying his arms from Luttich. Apparently, Metternich said they were faulty and not worth buying and that's a lie that De la Marck could not live with."
The knight was armed to all rights. He wore a short haubergen mail shirt to his waist and an armet helmet. He carried a half sword and Jacobus could see a martel tied to his saddle. His horse too was partly armored so that it couldn't have been happy riding at any speed.
He continued, "I've ridden all night for this battle today. I hope that I am in time otherwise I will not be able to collect my mercenary pay."
Then he added, "Do you want to join me? It should be a good battle and your horse looks a worthy animal," he smiled at Jacobus.
Jacobus very quickly said, "I'd love to but I have to reach my home today, in Cochem," he said, lying. "My father is dying and his soul will not rest in peace unless he sees me. Anyway, as you see, I'm not armed."
"God be with you then," said the knight and with that he put spurs to his tired horse and disappeared into the distance.
Jacobus, muttered to himself, God be with you too, and I hope that your horse will not be too tired to dodge the lances that it will meet. He continued on his way hoping to bypass the battle on the east.
Their path took them along the eastern heights.
The first time his eyes saw the valley he realized immediately that this was to be the site of the battle. It was the ideal location for warrior bishops to sit their horses on the valley rim while watching the battle below.
Along the western heights opposite, rank upon rank of soldiers stood or sat waiting. Knights accompanied by red and yellow Luttich banners rode through their ranks stopping occasionally to talk to one of the men or to laugh at a joke. From his position on the eastern edge of the valley he could almost hear the hum of nervous chatter among the soldiers. They were being kept alert and in line, for the battle.
In the far distance on the southern heights, another army waited. He recognized the red and white banners of Trier and although he couldn't see, he expected that, there too, knights were riding through the ranks to encourage the fainthearted. There was nothing to distinguish the two armies, composed mostly of armed peasants and a number of mercenary knights, other than the flags of their masters, the Archbishop and the Bishop Prince both of whom are, likely as not, still abed in their respective palaces, he thought.
He and Retter moved along the eastern deserted edge of the valley, well prepared to gallop as fast as Retter's legs could carry them away from this battlefield if anyone approached.
Yet, the scene was fascinating. He couldn't draw himself away and ride on. Many men would die there today and many wives in the evening would wait crying for their men to return.
As he thought this, one horn sounded and then more, and the men on the southern ridge started forward towards him, slowly at first but then faster. The hill caught their feet as they ran down to the valley floor. The knights first let the foot soldiers go then they too advanced slowly downwards with their horses carefully picking their steps among the rough grass and rocks. Finally a group of fully armored men on tall horses, surrounded by banners, followed. These were the infamous soldier bishops of Trier, Jacobus suspected.
The first army on Jacobus' right had not moved. They seemed entranced by the masses of men moving towards them. They grew silent and it seemed to Jacobus that their banners even fell still waiting waiting.
The soldiers of Trier, in leather helmets and armed with pikes, now in the valley bottom marched forward more confidently. They had advanced half way across the valley and their enemy, seemingly frightened, had not dared to move. As they marched forward they looked almost as though they had won the battle they had not been opposed. They had expected to fight the battle on the flat valley floor.
Jacobus watched fascinated. It seemed that he was learning a small lesson in military tactics. The Trier force slowed down as the foot soldiers realized that although their enemy had not moved forward to meet them neither had they moved back. Now they would have to march up hill to engage the enemy or wait. But they weren't allowed to wait, bugles drove them onwards and they started to climb up through rocks and rough grass. Many times they stumbled and some stopped to take a breath on the hill. They could not know that it might be their last.
When most of the Trier foot soldiers were on the climb and their knights had reached the bottom of the valley side, the Luttich army came to life. At a trumpet's call a host of longbow men in the tall grass near the top of the hill, that Jacobus had not noticed, stood up and let fly a volley of arrows onto the struggling foot soldiers below. A pause and then another volley flew down the hill, and another, and another.
Jacobus saw men fall left and right. One man looked up only to receive an arrow directly in his face and he screamed so loudly that all other sounds of the battle seemed in that moment to have stilled.
The Trier archers tried to respond but they were at a disadvantage firing up the hill and they suffered as many injuries as the foot soldiers.
Then the Luttich army was let loose. With a blare of trumpets and much waving of flags and banners, shouting their battle cries, they rushed down the hill at their victims below. The Luttich knights waited until the foot soldiers had engaged and then they too sprang down the hill.
The Trier soldiers lowered their pikes on the hill but it didn't do them much good. Jacobus winced as he saw one soldier run right through by the lance of his opponent. It reminded him of his good fortune a mere flesh wound on the arm, rather than a death wound through the chest. Another was hit so sharply with a sword that he continued trying to run up the hill while his head rolled backwards. Horses trampled a third lying under their hooves.
Horses died, men died and mercy died.
Blood spilled everywhere and, as the minutes passed, the green of the valley turned brown-red. Men lay screaming as their guts spilled or they lost the side of their face from the slash of a martel. Death littered the valley and the red and white banners lay silent. It was all over in less than an hour.
The scene reminded him of the unbridled cruelty of Pieter Brueghel's Murder of the Innocents. In a hundred separate scenes, murder was done and the battle was decided in favor of the side that was most murderous. Brueghel's painting was of children but these peasants were just as innocent he thought.
It was a rout. Even though the armies were evenly matched, those that had the advantage of the higher ground were twice as capable. Then when the battle was over the victors went through the dead and dying, spearing those foot soldiers still crying "Mercy," and cutting the throats of the wounded knights, even though the peasant soldiers that they slaughtered were no different from themselves and could have been their neighbors. It was a scene of such sudden unthinking violence and crudity that it touched Jacobus's painter's vision but not his heart. No artist would want to paint a scene like this.
Indeed, Jacobus felt no pity instead he felt a deep crimson anger.
In the distance, he saw the fully armed warrior Bishops of Trier turn on their heels and spur their horses away as soon as they realized that the battle was lost. Banners were thrown away lest they be recognized. They escaped up the southern-eastern slopes, probably without any hurt or much sorrow to tell the Archbishop that although they had all fought bravely their opponents were more numerous, thought Jacobus.
Jacobus wondered how the knight with whom he had ridden that morning had fared. Probably, he may be safe since he was on the winning side and in the last line of attackers. Now he could ride home, proclaim his bravery and wait for the next call to action.
It won't be long these bishops are always fighting each other.