Crécy

by Griff Hosker

  I nodded. “I have a plan. You can tell the others that we are all employed, once more, by King Edward. He is pleased and this sojourn will not be a long one. We sail to France as soon as the weather improves but, for the while, we can rest.” I knew that it would be months, perhaps even longer, before we could sail. Some of the army would be close enough to reach the muster in a day or two, we were not that far from London, but those who came from the borders would need a fortnight or more to reach us. “And how is Megs?”

  “The stable boy seems to like the horse.” We were both aware that was not always true. “When I gave him your sixpence, he seemed even happier!”

  I went down to join my men. I knew that they would all be drunk by the end of the night. Gascony had good wine but archers, by and large, preferred beer and English beer at that. Besides, in Gascony war was always just a night away and here they would not be fighting. They could afford a thick head and queasy stomach after indulging too much. I never drank too much, and I was content after we had eaten to drink half the quantity of most of my men. I was quiet for I had much to think about. I had risen far higher than I had expected. I knew that my mother would have been proud that the King knew my name. My father would have hated it and both thoughts pleased me. I had my father’s name and I was stuck with it, but I would never acknowledge him! I should have changed my name when I first came to London. When Megs and Stephen the Tailor had taken me in then would have been the time to do so but back then I was too honest. I knew that I had changed, and I had seen both treachery and dishonesty. Honest men were not always rewarded. I believed I was now a good man, having atoned for whatever faults I had once had, but I could lie. Even more, I knew that if I had to, I could murder, and I could steel. The battle of Auberoche where the French soldiers had been butchered had been murder, for many of those we had killed had not defended themselves and begged for mercy. I knew that if my position was reversed then I would fight until they hacked my sword from my dead hand.

  The next day I rose first and the landlord, recognising me as the leader, fussed over me in the empty room in which they served food. He brought in slices of Wiltshire ham as well as a good cheddar and, best of all still warm white bread. Instead of a pat of butter, he brought in a bowl of local butter. It was as fine a meal as a man could ask for. The small beer washed it down beautifully. I smiled as he whisked away the ham, cheese and butter before the rest of my men appeared. They would have rye or oat bread and although they would be served good food they would not have the quantity which was offered to me.

  I was surprised by the messenger who came from the King for it was his son, Edward, and he was accompanied by a knight I knew from Dunkerque, Sir John Chandos. He had received his knighthood for services in the Low Country. Although the Prince wore no mail he had on the royal coat of arms and the landlord almost fell over himself as he raced to bring out the fine food he had just whisked away! Had I not been so stunned by the status of my messenger I might have laughed aloud.

  “My lord!”

  The Prince dropped a purse on the table, “Here is payment for you and your archers for the next six months.”

  “Thank you, Prince Edward.”

  The landlord arrived and placed the food before the Prince and the knight. “Landlord, King Edward will pay the bill for John Hawkwood and his archers. Submit it to the castle where my father’s steward will furnish the payment.” The young prince stared at the landlord, “The request will be scrutinised and there will be no rooking!”

  The landlord bowed but I saw the disappointment on his face. I would have less expensive fare from now on.

  The Prince cut himself some bread, smeared it with butter and then added a thick slice of ham. The Prince was no fussy eater. Sir John Chandos said, “I saw you at Cadzand and I was right glad that we had your archers on our side.”

  “You too fought well, Sir John.”

  Prince Edward said, “I believe that archers are the key to winning back my father’s French lands. Tell me, Hawkwood, how many arrows can you loose?”

  “That depends upon our general.” I saw him frown. “If we are ordered to then we can send twenty or thirty arrows in the time it takes to count to two hundred but if we did so then our rate from then on would diminish rapidly. If we released them steadily then a good archer can keep going for half an hour or so before he tires. Although we would have to change our bowstrings in that time.”

  “And at what range can you kill?”

  “Every archer is different, my lord, but generally it is two hundred and fifty to three hundred paces.”

  “Impressive. I would like to see your men use the bow, would that be possible?”

  I smiled and gave him an honest answer, “Aye, Prince Edward, but not this morning. They had a sea voyage which ended yesterday and last night they all drank too much.” As if to prove the point Ned and Jack led half a dozen down and they stank of stale ale.

  The Prince smiled, “Tomorrow then, let us say we meet at the common ground where the targets are set up. I would have you use war arrows and bodkins, not the prickshafts.”

  That showed me the Prince had already asked questions. Prickshafts were lighter arrows used to aim at the wooden prick in the centre of the clout, the canvas target. “Of course, my lord.”

  They left and Ned and Jack joined me. The innkeeper had not had time to whisk away the good ham, bread, cheese and butter. Ned and Jack still had an appetite and they fell upon the food. As they ate, I told them what the Prince had asked. “Have the men practise today for I wish to impress the Prince. I will go into the town and find this merchant, Basil of Tarsus. I wish my gold to be safe.”

  There was a town watch in Southampton and wearing my tunic with the red cross marked me as a King’s man. I felt safe walking the streets with my small chest. Until forty or so years earlier I would have been seeking a Jew, but King Edward 1st had executed more than six hundred of them and had confiscated their money. The rest had been expelled. He had gained a substantial war chest as a result. When I found Basil of Tarsus, I realised that he was, in fact, a Jew. He was a Greek Jew and his clothes were not the traditional Jewish ones but there were signs I recognised in his shop. The first sign was the two huge bodyguards. Merchants were loath to waste money on such men but a Jew who needed his treasure protecting needed them. There were other signs too which I spotted as I spoke with him. I suspect that the authorities and even King Edward himself would know of his activities and his origins but as the Earl of Stafford knew of him, I guessed that they were pretending that he was no Jew.

  “How can I help one of King Edward’s archers? I am a simple merchant who imports dried fruit and spices from Greece.”

  Although a lucrative business it was also expensive and even I knew that he was lying but, like the Earl of Stafford, I ignored it. “I have recently returned from Gascony where I served with Lord Henry Plantagenet and Sir Ralph, Earl of Stafford. We did well out there and I have this chest!” I hefted the chest on to the table and opened it. I smiled as I saw the two bodyguards’ hands go to their weapons in case I had secreted some device within.

  His eyes widened when he saw the chest was filled, “You are indeed a rich young man but I fail to see how I can be of any assistance to you unless you wish to use this to buy dried fruits and then have me sell them, for a commission.”

  I saw what he was doing. He was giving me a way to have him protect my money and yet not reveal his true identity. “I travel a great deal and carrying such a large amount is a temptation to many men. I would have my pile of coins grow. Could you do that for me?”

  He smiled, “Of course.”

  I did not like the smile. I closed the lid on the chest, “And of course it will be safe here.” I did not look up at the two bodyguards, but I inclined my head, “But if you should decide to misappropriate my money or try to take it then these two lumps would not stop me taking all that you own.” I heard one of them growl and I stood up to face the larger of the two, �
��I am an archer and I know how to fight when it matters.” I nodded down and he looked at my rondel dagger which was pricking his testicles. “Basil, do you wish this one or both of them to be eunuchs, just say the word and it shall be so.”

  “Hob, Tam, go and make yourself useful. I will talk to this archer alone.” When they had gone, he smiled, “There was no need for that, you know. I profit from my reputation and the great and the good all trust me.”

  “Then next time do not smile when you say my coins will be safe. They were not easily earned, and men died to gather me my wealth.”

  “Of course.” He seemed contrite.

  “It is likely that I will be away from England for a while, but I can write, and I can try to send you news if I am unlikely to return each year at about this time.” I took a sealed piece of parchment from my tunic. “This is my will. If you hear that John Hawkwood is dead, then I ask you to open it and honour my wishes. Of course, by then I shall be dead, and it is perfectly possible that you will just take my money but as I shall not be in this world then it will matter not to me.”

  He became very serious and clutched some amulet, which I could not see, below his tunic. “But it will to me. I am a man of my word.”

  “Good.” I stood and held out my arm. He clasped my hand and I squeezed. He nodded and smiled.

  When I left, I was unconcerned, for I had lied to him. As far as I was concerned the coins were easily come by and if we were going to France then I would make even more coins next time. I had also decided that I would make the transition from archer to a man at arms. The main reason was ransom. Archers scoured the battlefield after it was over and picked up the leavings of the lords. A man at arms fought an enemy and could capture him. I had been impressed by the ransoms Lord Henry had acquired and I would try to emulate him. To that end, I sought out a weaponsmith. When I had last spoken to Ralph of Malton, he had told me of a good one who lived over the River Itchen in the village of Bitterne. Balin the Smith had a good reputation. Now that I was fully grown, I could have a hauberk and good helmet made for me. I had not given all of my treasure to Basil. I would go to France and fight as an archer but after that, I would equip myself as a man at arms and then I could, perhaps, ascend to the rank of gentleman.

  Balin of Bitterne was so huge that he dwarfed me. However, whereas I was all muscle. Balin had a gut which acted as a barrier when he was at the forge. He almost dismissed me out of hand when his boy said I wished to see him. He glanced up and recognised what I was and went back to hammering the plate metal for a greave. “I do not add pieces of metal to brigandines! Find a blacksmith for it will be quicker and cheaper,”

  I tossed a French gold piece on to his anvil, “I want a hauberk and a helmet.”

  He put down his hammer, “But you are an archer!”

  “And one day I will be a man at arms. Call this preparation for a future yet to be born.”

  He looked at the coin, “You know that this will be neither cheap nor quick.”

  “I am a patient man and I can wait. Ralph of Malton said that you knew your trade and I trust his judgement.”

  He bit into the gold coin and put it in his apron pocket, “You are a King’s archer?” I nodded, “Then you will be sailing to France. This may be ready before you sail but I doubt it.”

  “Then it will be waiting when I return. As I said, I am a patient man!”

  “What is your name?”

  “John Hawkwood.”

  “Well, John Hawkwood, let me measure you and then you can be on your way.”

  The next day we were at the common long before the Prince and Sir John arrived. We set up the targets and we practised. This was no bad thing for it was some time since we had drawn a bow in anger and that had been aboard the ship and not a good test. I knew that I was not the best archer; I never claimed to be. I was one who was a fair archer, but I knew how to lead and I knew how to fight. The Prince had brought some other young nobles with him. I came to know them when we went to Normandy. Only Sir John had his spurs and the four young men would be hoping to impress King Edward in battle and be given a knighthood.

  I had my archers three hundred paces from the targets. That was probably the extreme range for my men. Prince Edward had prepared well, and he said, “That is too far away bring them back fifty paces as is the normal range. How many arrows can your men send in a minute?”

  I answered confidently for this was one of our routines, “Fifteen, my lord, but that number of arrows might not be accurate.”

  He shook his head, “It matters not for even at a gallop it would take a horse three or four minutes to bring a mailed man close enough to strike at an archer. Make it two hundred and fifty paces.” We all moved forward, and I saw grins on my men’s faces. When we had an arrow nocked then the Prince came down the line to ensure that we were using war arrows. Satisfied that we were he said, “I want you to send ten arrows as quickly as you can, Loring here can count, and he will determine the rate.” He nodded at me.

  “Draw!”

  The forty-one bows all creaked as we drew.

  “Release!”

  My men knew what they had to do and we each drew and released as fast as we could. Ten arrows were nothing and we all grinned when we had done. The young noble, Nigel Loring said, “Thirty-eight, my lord, I counted to thirty-eight!”

  “Then let us see how accurate they were.”

  We had set up ten targets. Only one arrow had not hit the target and I saw a shamefaced Job of Tarporley. All of my archers knew who had missed for we each knew our own arrows. Three arrows had hit the prick and Prince Edward said, “Captain, whose arrows are these three?”

  I looked at the flights, “Ned the Wanderer, Walter of Barnsley and Robin Goodfellow!”

  The Prince took out three florins from his purse and shook his head. He tossed the coins to the three archers, “Sir John here said I would need more than one florin. I have learned much today. You are my father’s archers but when we cross to France it is my banner you will follow, Hawkwood, and you will fight under my command. Is that clear?”

  Who was I to argue with the future King of England? However, I also knew that if King Edward ordered me to fight in his division then I would do so. The Prince was the cub, but King Edward was the lion. I nodded. The Prince and his companions watched my men for a while longer and I overheard some of their conversation. I had learned to keep my ears open for information was like gold and could be used in many ways. Thus it was that I heard that the Earl of Lancaster, in Aquitaine, was being threatened by an army of over twenty thousand men and had sent for help. Lord Henry would not seek help unless he was in danger. That confirmed that we would be leaving sooner rather than later for King Edward would not risk all that Henry Plantagenet had gained for him. He would act.

  We did not see him again until we embarked but five days a week saw us at the targets. I now had an idea what he wanted of us and so we practised until our arms and backs ached as though we had been hewing in the mines for a month. It was worth it for by the time we sailed to France, there were no archers in the whole army as well trained as mine!

  Route taken by King Edward’s Army 1346

  Author’s Map

  Chapter 10

  We sailed for Normandy in July. This time the King had secured the largest fleet I had ever seen. There were more than seven hundred vessels of varying sizes and the King had more luck than the previous year. It was a relatively smooth crossing and we landed safely and together at Saint Vaast la Hogue in the Cherbourg Peninsula. My company of archers had not travelled with Prince Edward but, as he had promised us, we were in his division, the vanguard. Prince Edward had been so impressed by our exhibition that he had almost three thousand of us with him. Not all of us were mounted and, as the horses were brought ashore, I was summoned to meet with him. The King had given his son some experienced generals: the Earls of Warwick and Oxford, Count Godfrey d’Harcourt, Sir Thomas Holland, Lord Stafford, Lord Burghersh and, of course, S
ir John Chandos.

  There was a strange event on the beach for King Edward tripped and bloodied his nose on the beach. Rather than dismaying the King, he took it as a sign that this was his land! As soon as they were all landed King Edward gathered his knights and, in a very symbolic ceremony, knighted his son and gave him his spurs in front of the whole army. It was cleverly done as this was his first action in France and he was making a statement. He was telling King Philip that this was his land. He also gave Prince Edward the honour of being the vanguard, the scouting division of the whole army. It was an honour for the Prince and showed all of us the faith he had in his son. Of course, that put more pressure on my company of archers for we would be the advanced guard. The Low Countries had given us a reputation and Prince Edward would use our skills to facilitate our passage through Normandy.

  After he had detached himself from the congratulations of his peers, the Prince came directly to me, “Hawkwood, we are going to move along the coast, first to Saint-Lô and thence to Caen. It will take some time to unload our ships. Before the French know that we are here I would have you take your men and gather as many horses as you can. Take William Jauderell and his mounted archers too but I want you to command. I need as many of my archers mounted as possible!”

  Even though he was just sixteen Prince Edward had presence even then!

  I did not know the country but as the sea was on our left it seemed to be a fairly simple proposition and by keeping the sea in that position I would not become lost. I had heard of William Jauderell. He was one of the best archers we had and like me was a vintenar. He readily agreed to follow my lead, not least because any failure would be laid at my door and yet he and his men would all benefit from the profits of what was, in essence, a huge chevauchée. The horses we took would be for Prince Edward but all else would be ours and I was known to be fortunate in that regard. It was about forty miles to Saint-Lô and as Normandy was famous for horses, I deduced that there must be many horse farms in the land twixt our camp and St Lo. Although knights’ horses might be kept in castles the majority of the other horses, sumpters and palfreys, would be kept in fields. I had William Jauderell take his men to Valognes to ravage the area around that town whilst I took mine to Sainte-Mère-Église. Even as we set off the town of St Vaast la Hogue was being burned and other parties spread out to raid the nearby farms. Ships from our fleet paralleled our course and even as we rode south, I saw ships attacking the French boats and burning them. This was a chevauchée the like of which France and, indeed, the world, had never seen before.