Crécy

by Griff Hosker

  “It keeps away nits and lice, besides which the last thing an archer needs is hair in his eyes.”

  I noticed then that none of them had a beard. Their knives were kept razor sharp so that they could draw them over their chins and cheeks each morning. Once a week they drew them across their scalps. Then they gave me an old archer’s cap. It had belonged to one of their men who had died at Halidon.

  “You have no spare strings yet but when you get them then keep them here.” Robert stood back and nodded, “Not quite an archer, but you are getting there.”

  In the end, we only waited two days and then began the long march to Hartlepool where we would board ships which would take us to Scotland. The ships were already ferrying the knights and men at arms and we had less than five days to march the one hundred and forty miles to the port.

  Inevitably, as we moved north, I was seen by Philip of Lincoln. He now rode a horse and as we began our march, he rode down the line to inspect us. I tried to avert my eyes from his but without success. He turned his horse so that he could ride next to me. “You ignored my advice, John Hawkwood, apprentice tailor!”

  I shook my head, “My master took against me, Captain, and I could not stay. My mistress gave me money and food! I went with her blessing.” Even then I was being a little loose with the truth.

  I am not sure that he believed me, but he nodded, “You were never cut out to be a tailor but this does not sit well with me. If you were not with four of my best archers, then I might send you hence, but Robert of Nantwich may be able to finish what I began. We shall see. Know this, John Hawkwood, my eyes are upon you and one slip shall see you dismissed from this host.”

  Harry laughed as our captain continued his mounted inspection, “I see that you have chosen which truths to tell us. You know the captain but what made you flee London?”

  I sighed and told them a version of the truth, “I was an apprentice tailor but when I spoke out my master threatened me. I hit him and I fled. I did not lie about my mistress giving me money. She did.”

  Robert nodded, “No lies for we are now your brothers in arms. This is your company now and, as such, is closer than family.”

  That was easy to accept. I hated my brother and my father and already I felt more affection for this band of brothers. I think the march to Hartlepool made my mind up for me. I wanted to be a soldier. I found an affinity with all of my fellow archers. There were some I did not like and who did not like me; that is life, but the conversations and the banter were something I had only enjoyed with my Uncle John. My father had ended that and I decided to stay with this company as long as I could. Boarding the ship was an interesting experience for we were crowded together like cattle at a cattle market. I think that helped me because I could barely move and I was able to endure the day of sailing up the coast.

  We landed at Berwick which was the mightiest castle I had seen thus far. We landed north of the Tweed for there was still in place a treaty which said English soldiers could not cross the river. It seemed to me to be splitting hairs, but we landed on the beach north of the river and the treaty was not broken by us! Sir Henry Plantagenet was only waiting for us, his archers, and then he could begin his march north. I now knew the purpose of our campaign. The Northern Lords and their Scottish allies led by Edward Balliol, the token Scotsman placed on the Scottish throne by King Edward of England, had lost the battle of Boroughmuir and the Battle of Culblean the previous year. King Edward was using one of his better commanders to remedy the situation. Lord Henry was highly rated, and I never served under a better. We had landed on the north side of the Tweed and so began my first campaign on foreign soil. We had mounted archers and they were with the vanguard. We tramped along at the rear with the baggage. I had long ago changed from my shoes to the buskins Robert the Cordwainer had stolen for me but I realised I would soon need more as the marching on the cobbled roads was wearing them out. We were also reduced to living in hovels. Scotland being Scotland meant that we had more rain than usual, and I thanked my Uncle John for helping me to oil my cloak. I was drier than some.

  By the time we reached most of the towns they had been pillaged already for the horse archers rode ahead of us as scouts and they had the pick of the booty. We managed to grab some food and ale in most places, but the coins and the real booty had been taken by the knights and the mounted archers. I was disappointed but Dai pointed out that the places we passed through were small and inconsequential. He was looking forward to Perth and Aberdeen which both promised fuller purses. “Besides, we have already made a profit from this. We have each earned more than sixty pennies and you, young Hawkwood, have more money than you have ever seen. Am I right?” He was right but Henry had already warned me that pay could sometimes be in serious arrears!

  We were at Pitlochry when the Scots finally attacked. It was our turn to be the sentries and I was with my tent mates. We had had no tents, but they seemed to like the term. We were guarding the horses of the knights. At night bows were of little use and the other four had short swords while I had my dagger and my two filleting knives. I do not think they thought they would be needed, and I was there largely for my young eyes and ears. We had spread ourselves out and were squatting. Silent Simon was the closest to me, but I knew that he had good ears which seemed to make up for his lack of voice and that gave me comfort. The insects were biting, and it was hard not to smack them but, if we had, then we would have alerted any Scots who were closing with us and so we sat in the dark and endured the almost invisible insects which seemed to be eating us alive. To help me I put them from my mind and tried to hear Simon breathing. When I had done that, I listened for the sound of animals in the woods which were just a hundred paces from the horse lines. At first, I could not hear them and then I did, there were deer grazing in the woods. No more sounds came to me and so I sniffed. I smelled the horses; they were easy and then I detected Simon. It was not an unpleasant smell, but he smelled of sweat and the linseed he had used to oil his bow before we came on duty. That pleased me. I then tried the deer. I knew that there were deer there, I could smell them. I was pleased with myself when I scented their musky odour and then I heard them move and move quickly.

  I stiffened. The only predators for deer were men and so I sniffed again. I smelled sweat, but it was not Simon’s sweat and then I smelled, not linseed oil, but sheep and cattle. I slipped my dagger from my sheath and began to crawl towards Harry. I knew that any words would alert the men who were approaching. It was the sheep which gave it away. We had not been near sheep in any shape or form and that meant that these were the Scots. I tapped Harry and was pleased when I surprised him. I pointed to the horse lines and my nose. I mimed sniffing. He sniffed and shrugged. I held up my dagger and he nodded. Drawing his sword, he moved towards Dai. I went back to Simon, but he had smelled them too and his sword was drawn already.

  I now used my eyes to look into the forest and I saw them; they were shadows but shadows which moved and they were not moving like animals. They walked on two legs. I turned to Simon who just nodded. He had seen them too. I drew a second filleting knife. I rarely used my left hand, but I needed another weapon. Suddenly, from the other side of the camp, I heard a cry. There had been other warriors and they must have found sentries who were less alert than we.

  Robert shouted, “Stand to!”

  The nearest help to the five of us were the knights and men at arms and they would either have to rush to our aid without armour or we would have to delay whoever came to attack us. Before we had begun our watch, Captain Philip had said that the Scots might try to take the horses which we were to guard. A horse raid would mean just a few men. The shadows who ran at us were more than a few men. This was an attack and not simply a raid. With the need for silence gone the wild Scots screamed and cursed at us; at least I assumed they were curses for I was cursing these savages in my head but I could not understand their foreign cries. I knew that I could fight but fistfights with other boys were not the same as fightin
g with a man who had a sword and was trying to butcher you. The other four could not help me and I would have to help myself. To my right, I heard a cry as Silent Simon slashed his sword at an attacker. I saw a huge shadow racing towards me, and I chose a course of action which came from I know not where. I dropped to one knee and I waited for the man to come close. As he raced towards me, I saw that his eyes were looking horizontally and not at the open ground. I was just a shadow which he ignored. It cost him his life for as he neared me, I launched myself up at him with my two weapons. My stronger arm drove my dagger towards his throat while my weaker, slower left found his groin. Both razor-sharp blades drove deep into unprotected flesh and such was the power of my drive that he died without making a sound.

  I heard cries behind me as Captain Philip led archers to come to our aid, and to my left and right I heard steel on steel as men fought. The dead man before me slid to the ground and I saw another running at me with a hand axe raised to end my life. This time I ran at the man and, as he brought the axe head down, I threw myself to the ground and caught his legs. I hit the ground hard and I felt something crack but the man tripped over me and his axe embedded itself in the corpse of his countryman. Despite the pain in my side I jumped to my feet and, straddling his back, drew my filleting knife across his throat. This time I took the axe and put my filleting knife in my buskin. I ran back to my first position and was almost hacked in two by a half-naked man at arms who swung his sword at me. The man had barely had time to pull on his breeks or perhaps he had slept in them.

  My reflexes enabled me to pull back and I shouted, “I am an English archer! I am a sentry!”

  He looked down at the two bodies and grinned, “Then you are like David who slew Goliath! Get behind me, David, and protect my back!”

  Grateful to have someone before me who appeared to know what he was doing, I obeyed. I knew enough about fighting, from my conversations with my tent mates, that it was the man at arms left side which was his weakness and I stood there. A Scottish spearman ran at him and his long spear thrust towards the man at arms’ left side. I clumsily brought up the axe and connected with the spear which rose in the air. The man at arms took advantage and he brought his sword around to smash into the spearman’s shield. I stepped forward and stabbed the Scot in the side. As he reeled, the man at arms brought over his sword to smash into the neck and shoulder of the Scot.

  I saw the first lightening of the sky as dawn approached and, as two mailed knights and their squires joined us, the Scots began to fall back. I knew neither of the knights for I had only seen their standards and surcoats in the distance. The two who were next to me had on their mail and held a shield and a sword.

  One took charge. He turned to the half-naked man at arms, “Ralph of Malton, thank you for your service. Are the sentries here dead or fled?”

  He said, “Neither my lord. Here is one that slew two and helped me defeat another.”

  He turned and looked at me, “This is an archer? But he is a boy!”

  “Nonetheless my lord, it is true.”

  “What is your name, boy?”

  “John Hawkwood, my lord!”

  “Then while we scour the woods for more of these Scots you may take from your dead. You have earned whatever they have.” He turned to Ralph of Malton, “And you had better stay here too, for you were lucky not to have been hurt! Fighting with a sword and pair of breeks!”

  As they went off Ralph of Malton said, to no-one in particular, “Aye, well if I had stopped to put on my mail as you did, Sir Robert Fitzwalter, then this archer would be dead and the Scots would have been in the camp.” He stuck his sword in the ground and said to me, “Well, John Hawkwood, I take it this is your first action?” I nodded. “Then you have acquitted yourself well. You have killed two and I believe that you might have taken this spearman. Let us see what they have. Scots are generally piss poor which is why we are paid less for fighting them but who knows. The axe you have is useful.” He knelt next to the spearman and picked up various items. “The helmet is not even worth cooking in. Take that for your company can melt it down and make arrows.” He tossed it behind me. “His dagger is a good one. I will have that and his spear.” He found his purse. “Little enough in here and not enough to share. The helmet shall have to be your spoil.” I saw that the man was barefoot and had no boots to take and the leather belt was old and worn. We left them on the corpse. The shield had been cracked by Ralph’s blow. “Let us see your other two men.” The first man had no helmet and no shield, but he did have a small dagger. Ralph said, “A dirk. A handy little weapon.” He gave it to me. The man’s short sword lay some way from his body. Ralph removed the scabbard from the dead man’s waist and, sheathing the sword, handed it to me. “Archers need short swords.” The purse had even less in it than the spearman. The axeman I had killed had neither helmet, sword nor dirk but he had enough coins in his purse for us to divide.

  We had finished as the sun rose and Captain Philip approached along with my comrades, Robert, Harry and Dai. They all grinned when they saw me. Captain Philip said, “We thought to find a corpse!”

  Ralph laughed, as he gathered his loot, “He killed two, Captain. This one is a warrior! He clasped my arm, “Farewell John Hawkwood. I will remember you.”

  Robert said, “I am happy that you survived.” Suddenly he looked around, “Where is Silent Simon?”

  I dropped my treasures which no longer seemed as precious. “I have not seen him since we began the fight.”

  I ran to the place I had left him. I looked down and saw him. His head was bloody and there was a dead Scot close by him. Dai raced to his side and shook his head, “Poor Simon! He could not call out for help.” Then he put his ear to his mouth. “He lives! Let us take him to a healer!” Captain Philip turned to me, “Take your booty and that of Simon’s foe to the camp. We four will tend to Simon. I am pleased you joined us, John Hawkwood.”

  As they left I felt like a giant. I had been accepted and was one of the company. More than that I had killed my first men and I had not hesitated. I had wondered could I kill. I now knew that I could, and it had been easy.

  Chapter 2

  My standing went up that day, not only amongst the archers but, as a knight who was close to Henry Plantagenet had witnessed it, in the whole army and I found men speaking to me as we marched north. Silent Simon was hurt but not seriously. The healers had him carried in a wagon for the next few days as we drove the remnants of the Scottish raid north. The mounted archers harried and chased them. We saw the bodies of the ones they had caught by the side of the road. There was no attempt to bury them as they were all local and this would act as a warning to the rest of the populace, rebel against England at your peril. It was a savage lesson I learned but I saw, in King Edward’s penultimate Scottish campaign, that it worked. The purpose of the raid was clear; they wished to hurt our ability to move quickly and that was a lesson learned. We invested Perth and this time. although we did not burn it we did take tribute from them and ate well. Perhaps the Scots thought we had given up on the chase; we had not!

  The Scots finally stopped running and faced us at Aberdeen. They had a wooden wall around the town and a wooden tower in the castle which they had built to replace the stone one destroyed by Robert Bruce during the war of independence. The Scots lined the walls and Lord Henry ordered the town to be surrounded. The captains and leaders were summoned to a council of war and we were reunited with Silent Simon. The blow to his head had needed to be stitched and our silent friend would have a savage scar across his skull. Robert was philosophical about the wound for, as he said, Simon had been lucky.

  “When we attack, John, you shall fetch our arrows and you will need to carry many for an attack on walls requires hundreds if not thousands of arrows.” He saw the disappointment on my face. “Do not worry. You have shown that you can fight and soon you shall be given the opportunity to use your bow. For now, be content with this task. Your purse is full, and you have yet to spend
a penny.”

  I nodded, as I knew he was right. I had as much money now as my Uncle John had earned in three months of hard work. I would never be a farmer for the work was too hard and the rewards too few. I now knew my future lay with a weapon in my hand. We did not attack straight away for Lord Henry had us make pavise. These were man-sized shields which could be propped up so that an archer could shelter behind, nock an arrow and step out to expose himself to the Scottish archers for as short a time as possible and then be protected while he prepared his next arrow. While they were being built Simon and I made a mould for arrows. We used the river clay from the Dee, and we melted the poor helmet of the Scottish warrior as well as a couple of poor swords we had taken in the raid. Once a sword had been bent or buckled then it was useless as a weapon. We would be able to make thirty arrowheads. All of my arrowheads were hunting arrows and they were not good enough to penetrate mail. Although he was silent, Simon was able to teach me much about making arrows. I had no words to listen to and so I observed all that he did. The bodkin arrowheads we made were needle-pointed and that meant that they could pierce mail and, if close enough, plate armour. I learned later how they did this. The narrow end was small enough to enter a mail ring and then the force of an arrow, sent by a longbow, would expand and break the mail. Unlike a war arrow or a hunting arrow, the bodkin would drive deep into flesh. When they came from the mould, I put them in a hessian sack filled with sand and I spent a day smoothing off the edges. As a reward for my work, I was given two of the bodkin arrows when they had been finished. I chose my best two arrows and fitted the new heads to them. The hunting arrowheads I kept.