Hawkwood's Sword Read online

  “Thank you, you are most kind.” Werner drank off the wine and held out his cup for more. “It is thirsty work riding about on patrol at night.”

  “I am surprised that you are not in your own camp,” I said. “That must be well ahead of us here, surely.”

  “Yes, it is. We have seen your John Brise and his men. But Albrecht sent us out, and I felt we might be able to guide you a little if we could find you.”

  Harzmann sipped only once from his own cup, I noticed.

  “We have heard that you have been attacked. How was this? Have you suffered much loss?” Werner asked.

  “We lost twenty dead, we have several wounded, and we also lost a few horses. But we saw our attackers off, whoever they were. Their losses were greater than ours, over fifty so I’m told. We did gain twenty or so horses, which is much to our advantage. It was an unwelcome affair, but we came off best in the end,” I said, and wondered how the two of them knew of the attack.

  Werner’s eyes gleamed in the firelight, leaning forward eagerly. He set his cup upon the ground and rubbed his hands together in the warmth from the fire.

  Werner von Felsingen was Albrecht Sterz’s senior marshal, but I never quite trusted him, nor he me, so I believed. He was some fifteen years younger than I, and I know he resented the fact that I was second in command of the White Company, not he. As with all of us, he had learned his craft in the wars in France. He was a hard young man, and a good soldier, but we found little to like in each other. He held out his cup for more wine, sipped, and then gave me a sly look.

  “Jack, there is more to tell, is there not? We hear you have prisoners. Have you questioned them yet?”

  I confess I was taken aback by this. How, I asked myself, did he know this? Did we have a spy in our own camp? I decided to bluff my way out of the situation.

  “I have, and they had nothing of interest to tell me. One is a mere boy, the other sore wounded and like to die this night.”

  “We should help him on his way, not keep him alive. We should kill the boy now too, before he has chance to escape and report what he have seen to his masters. This is weakness,” Werner sneered. “You were ever too soft, John. Where are they?” He stood and began to draw his sword from its scabbard.

  “Not so, Master Almain.” Jack rose to his feet. “You see no further than the end of your long nose. A dead man is of no use, a live one may well be.”

  “Do not presume to speak to me, peasant!” This last was almost spat in Jack’s face.

  In two heartbeats the point of Jack’s dagger was pricking at Werner’s throat. I held my breath. Once in a killing mood Jack was not easily stopped.

  “My word is given, whether you will it or not,” he said between clenched teeth. “I am as good a man as you at this trade, and I have killed better than you many times in the field, so beware when you name me peasant.”

  Werner’s face turned pale and fear was in his eyes.

  “Jack!” I said. “I think he regrets his hasty words. Isn’t that so, Werner?” He nodded, carefully, and slammed the sword back into its sheath. Jack sheathed his dagger and resumed his seat at the fire, ever watchful of the two Almains.

  Will Preston stood, and drained his wine cup. “Well, I’m for sleep,” he said. “We’ve had a long day. Come on, Jack, you too. Good night, all.” He yawned widely.

  Jack rose and tossed the dregs of his cup into the fire, causing it to spit and smoke. He loomed over Werner, who continued to gaze into the flames.

  “Keep away from me, you whoreson bastard, if you value your head,” Jack snarled, then nodded to me. “Good night, Sir John.” So saying, he stalked off into the darkness.

  Harzmann sipped his wine, and spoke for the first time. “Yes, it is late, and I think we must impose upon your hospitality for the night, Sir John. In a strange land it would be unwise to blunder about in the darkness seeking our own camp, some leagues away.”

  “Well said, Conrad. You are wise to avoid a night ride. Of course you and your escorts are welcome to stay here until the morning.” I could not turn them away, but I was concerned about their presence. The matter of the murdered forerider lay heavy on my mind.

  The Almains were quartered in some spare tents, and eventually the whole camp settled down for the night. Soon, only the low voices of the patrolling guards broke the silence, apart from the rustling and scratching of the small birds and animals of the night, and the louder calls of hunting owls. Before retiring to my own tent, I sent for two guards from my most trusted men and assigned them to watch over our prisoners. “I do not want them to run off into the night,” I informed them, “nor do I want them murdered in their sleep. I have plans for them.” Only then did I retire.

  As I drifted off to into what became a fitful sleep, I wondered how Werner had learned of the attack upon us. Also, where were the other foreriders? Did they still live? Only the morning would tell.

  Chapter 2

  Treachery

  I emerged from my sleeping quarters early next morning to find the camp shrouded in heavy mist. The sky was clouded over and the sun invisible. Ralph had just rolled out of his blanket; he stood knuckling his eyes and yawning.

  “I’m sorry, Sir John. I should have been about earlier than this. I’ll bring you food and drink directly.” He pulled on his boots and made off in the direction of the cooks’ tents.

  I sat at the long table placed in the open and let the events of the previous day drift through my mind. It became clear to me that we would soon have a hard fight on our hands. It was even possible that Werner was pursuing some little campaign of his own making, although at the time I could not even guess where it was to lead.

  Ralph returned ere long with cheese, bread, good red apples, and a jug of watered wine. On such simple fare I usually broke my fast.

  Shortly after Werner appeared. He joined me at the table and chewed gloomily on an apple. “This mist is not good for us, John. It holds some pestilence, I have little doubt. I would be away were it not for this.” He lifted and gulped at a cupful of the watered wine. “Faugh! What in Hell’s name is this you drink?”

  I called to Ralph. “Pour the Ritter von Felsingen some wine. I’m sorry, Werner, but wine at this time of day does not sit well upon my stomach. However, you are welcome to what we have.”

  He muttered his thanks, and drank the wine. Ralph brought in more food and we sat and ate in an uneasy silence. Soon we were joined by Jack Onsloe, Will Preston, Will Turton, and finally by the cold presence of Harzmann.

  Chased away by the morning sun, the mist gradually lifted and our spirits rose likewise. The Almains made ready to leave, and I walked over to where Werner stood waiting for his horse, a dappled grey, to be brought to him.

  “Thank you for your hospitality, Sir John,” he managed to say with some effort. “It is bad that we do not see eye to eye. We should be better friends. He held out his hand, and I took it a firm grip. Our eyes met and I felt that we were both trying to read the other’s true mind.

  “I agree, Werner, we must. At least we must try for the greater good of all. We wish you a safe journey back to your column. Give my duty to Albrecht, I beg you, and wish him well. God speed.”

  His lance-bearer brought his mount as we talked; he swung himself up into the high peaked saddle and settled himself for the ride. The others of his party were already mounted, and as they set off I was struck yet again by the precision with which the Almain riders positioned themselves. They rode in twos, each pair exactly behind the two to their front. This pattern of march never seemed to vary or falter.

  I turned away to make my own preparations for the day, but first I set in motion a plan to discover the answer to a question which had plagued my mind all the previous night. I sent for Will Preston, who bustled up full of protests about the need to push ahead with his duties in organising our column to make ready to move off.

  “That won’t take long, Will. But you may find the task I have for you takes more than a little longer.
Most importantly, you must be very wary in its execution.”

  “What can this be, Sir John? I have too much on my hands at this time.” Anxiety showed in his round face.

  “Yes, and I understand, and I won’t expect you to come to me before the morrow, perhaps not even then. I want you to ask each of the foreriders who rode between our column and the Almains which of them told of the attack upon us yesterday. Be careful not to suggest that there is anything wrong in having done so, or you will not come at the truth. Do it all very quietly, in a roundabout sort of way. Say nought to anyone else of this.”

  Will’s eyes widened. “What is this all about? Do you suspect treachery?”

  “I’m not sure. My mind will be easier when I know whatever you find out, whether it be good or bad. Again, I say, not a word to anyone else. Now I must to my own preparations. The sun is higher in the sky than I would have liked.”

  He saluted, and left to go about his duties, but his face wore a worried frown. As for me, I called for Ralph.

  “Come, boy, help me with my armour, and where is my horse?”

  *****

  It seemed an age before the column was ready to ride on. I fretted with impatience as Ralph and a fellow page helped me into my armour. The well-worn straps broke more than once, and this meant further delay whilst an armourer was fetch to make further repairs. Finally, I was armed and ready. Then Tom Steyne, our Horse Master, reported my horse, Boy, to be lame. As a replacement, the best he could produce was a willing but fidgety young colt.

  On this questionable mount I rode to the head of the column to my place just to the rear of the vanguard. Will was there, cursing the men for their tardiness in getting into their proper order.

  “Problems, Will?” I ventured, when the tirade had abated a little.

  “Not so much, he replied with his crooked grin. “But I felt like waking up the idle knaves this morning, to let the sluggards know I’m awake if they’re not.”

  “Ready to move now, Master Preston,” a voice called from the very front of the van, and with that the whole column jingled into movement. At last we were on our way again, riding four abreast to cut down the length of our column. A more compact body made more sense in open country, where we could see the approach of an enemy. Off to each side and to the front rode a screen of foreriders on light, fast horses. Those furthest out could, at need, make contact with the other two columns ahead of us. John Brise and his men were on my right, and the Almains under Albrecht to my left. However they were both perhaps a day ahead, and I expected they would already be settled in camp by the time we joined them.

  We journeyed on, and before long we were unexpectedly met by a patrol under John Brise. “Well met, Sir John!” his homely Essex voice boomed through his beard. “You have made good progress. We are not so far from our camp, and that of Master Sterz.”

  “Well met, indeed. I’m glad to see a familiar face in this strange land.” I held out to him my hand, which he grasped and shook heartily.

  He swung his mount alongside mine, and his escort distributed back along the ranks of the column. John screwed his neck round as he realised that there was a new face behind us.

  “Who’s the stranger? He looks a likely lad,” he asked, turning back to me.

  “A new recruit to our ranks, and he will be very useful to us here in Italy.” I then told him briefly the happenings of the previous day, even to the visit we had had from Werner and his men. I didn’t mention my suspicions however, formed after Werner had revealed that he had known about the attack upon us.

  “How d’you think we shall fare with the Almains, Sir John?”

  “It all depends upon how matters fall out. If we are successful, I see no hindrance.”

  “And if not, what then?”

  “We shall see. But let me tell you something for your ears alone. When we were in Avignon, I was lucky to make the acquaintance of a Tuscan merchant who lives in the city, a very shrewd man, by name Francesco di Marco Datini. He hails from Prato, a small city near unto Florence, and has been in France as a man of business for the past twelve years. Apart from anything else, he deals in arms, and much of our new equipment, including armour, was supplied by him. As well, he has large stocks of arrow shafts, points and fletchings, so our archers will not want for those. Francesco has also given me the names and residences of some of his agents, and letters of introduction to them, so I know that we have something that Albrecht does not, which at need could work very much to our advantage.”

  “Ha! What does he want in return?” Brise asked.

  “Gold, what else? He is a merchant. Also he wants protection for his goods in passage from Italy to Avignon. I will need help in a strange land from time to time. We can aid each other. That is the bargain between us.”

  A tired silence fell between us. As we jogged onwards I recalled my first dealings with Datini. I had walked the streets of Avignon with Ralph at my side. The great Papal palace rose up to dominate the whole city, and the riches of the people—or a good many of them—could be seen on all sides. The palaces of the Cardinals and other princes of Holy Church were both opulent and ostentatious. Their retainers were dressed in rich stuffs, laden with gold and silver embroidery. Even the horses of the great wore gold-encrusted harness, with gold on the bits and bridle mounts. Those of us who gained access to the city streets, captains of the Free Companies encamped outside the walls, marvelled at these things and spent many hours discussing the chances of relieving the city and its people of their riches. In truth the task was beyond us, as we had no siege engines nor means of scaling the steep rocks and walls which surrounded Avignon. Thus, when allowed within the walls, we could only gaze in wonder, see but not take, touch but not carry away save by purchase.

  I recall looking through the open door of a merchant’s shop at the various pieces of armour lying about on the floor, with weapons hanging from the walls. There were many other items of trade displayed: decorated caskets and chests, rich hangings and cloths. In the shadows, the bright gleam of gold and silver plate was to be seen.

  I noticed also several bales of wool, such as I had seen years before in the warehouses of London and port towns of southern England. From somewhere unseen wafted the scent of warm exotic spices from the East.

  As I gazed at these riches I espied also, sitting at a high sloping wooden desk such as those used by money-changers and bankers, a serious-looking young man dressed in sombre brown. He was bent over a parchment book, pen in hand, making entries with quick, deft strokes. Perhaps he sensed he was being watched, for suddenly he looked up and spoke in strange tongue. I shook my head and uttered but one word—“English.”

  “Ha, Inglese,” he said, standing up and laying his pen carefully on the desk. “Come within, Signore. I have a little of your speech.” This was said with such a heavy accent I found it difficult to grasp at first, but I accepted his invitation, and we entered the shop.

  “I am Francesco di Marco of Prato near Florence in Italy. You are ‘capitano’ of one of the Companies which sit at our gates?” he asked. He stood with his right hand resting on the polished wood of the desk, and I noticed the fine shape of his hand, with carefully trimmed nails, almost womanly. On the thumb was a gold ring set with a red, engraved stone.

  “Yes, I am John Hawkwood, a knight of England, and I seek weapons and other equipment for my men. I see you have such things here.”

  “Indeed, Signore. I buy and I sell. Sometimes after battles and campaigns I buy a great deal. Presently I have a good store of weapons and armour. If you require the finest armour, I can obtain it from Milan. But not immediately, you understand.” He paused. “Perhaps you will take a cup of wine with me.”

  “Gladly. You are most kind,” I told him.

  I followed him into the room behind the shop, where stood a table and several chairs, all of the plainest fashion but of good quality. A glazed window opened on to a much larger hall, which appeared to be the warehouse. We seated ourselves, Ralph tak
ing his place behind my chair. No sooner had we done so than a serving maid appeared, carrying a pottery jug of wine and two silver cups. She said nothing, and neither did Datini, but my eyes must have told him that I thought her comely. He smiled.

  “Only a slave-girl, Signore, from Tartary, bought in the markets of Constantinople. A pretty enough little thing, but a heathen. Your health, Signore.” He raised his cup, and I followed suit, and waited for him to speak again. His dark eyes watched me shrewdly.

  “I hear that the Holy Father is to offer you and others employment in Italy,” he said, sipping his wine.

  I was taken slightly aback that this should have become common knowledge. “It is possible,” I countered, “If the pay is good.”

  “I would have an alliance with such a man as you. It could prove useful to me, Signore Haccuud.”

  That was the first time I met the Italian awkwardness with my name, something which was to follow me all my days.

  Datini leaned forward. “You see, Signore,” he went on, “most of the goods I have here for the delectation of my customers are from Italy, from Florence and other cities. They must be brought here by pack train, over the great mountains which lie between my country and France. Armed escorts are very necessary to guard against the thieves who prey on honest travellers. At times I would be very grateful for your protection of my goods.”

  “What do you offer me in return?” I asked. “And why do you ask this of me? You do not know me. I am a stranger, and a foreigner to boot.”

  “Let me say that I have heard of you from others, who told me that your Prince gave you knighthood. That is enough for me to know that I may trust you. What do I offer you? I do not offer you money, but I will discount the price of anything you may buy from me. In addition, I will give you letters to my agents in several cities of Italy. My offer would be most valuable to you in a strange land, would it not? However, if I request guards from you to travel with my goods, I shall expect you to pay them. That way, it is clear where their loyalties lie.”