The King's Dogge

by Nigel Green

  CHAPTER 9

  ‘It’s funny how everyone hates us so much,’ Broughton mused. ‘You would have thought that the rest of the army would be grateful to us for trying to save their lives. Instead they just seem to regard us as the reason that they are getting less food.’

  I shifted uncomfortably on the prickly stubble. By allowing us two days to find a solution, Maximilian had placed an even greater strain on the Burgundian Army’s rapidly diminishing food stocks. Rations, already low, had been halved, and men spat on my shadow as I passed them in camp.

  ‘We are going to be even less popular tomorrow evening when we tell Maximilian that we have not got the slightest idea what the French plan is,’ I said irritably.

  ‘Let alone how to counter it.’ Broughton agreed unhappily.

  He subsided into silence, as we brooded on tomorrow’s meeting. At best, we were going to be made to look extremely foolish.

  ‘Lord Lovell?’ Surprised, I glanced up and saw Haldi together with an unfamiliar young man. Haldi gestured to him. ‘This one is in the service of Maximilian.’

  I swallowed uneasily.

  ‘What does he want?’

  ‘He wishes to know whether you have discovered the French tactics.’

  I glanced up in surprise at the young man, who had crouched down next to us. He looked too frail to be a soldier. His high forehead and slender hands gave him the appearance of a scholar or a priest.

  Broughton looked at the youth suspiciously.

  ‘We report directly to Maximilian,’ he grunted. ‘What’s his interest in us?’

  A slight smile lit up the young man’s features as this was put to him.

  ‘He says that he can help you, provided you assist him,’ Haldi replied. ‘He has calculated how the French will defeat the Burgundian Army.’

  Broughton snorted contemptuously and turned to me.

  ‘Francis, we are in enough trouble already without wasting time listening to the theories of a beardless youth. Don’t waste your time on him; he has probably not even fought a battle in his life.’

  Broughton was right, so I turned to Haldi.

  ‘Ask the young man why he has not advised his superior officers of the French plan. In any army, you have a duty to talk to those who command you before approaching strangers.’

  The young man’s face became flushed.

  ‘He tried, but they did not believe him,’ Haldi explained.

  The young man said something. Haldi listened carefully before turning back to Thomas and me.

  ‘He says his superiors are boneheaded idiots. They are afraid to be shown up for the fools that they are. Strolheim is the worst; he told this one here to come back and talk to him about warfare when he was not drinking his mother’s milk any longer.’

  Tactfully, I ignored Broughton’s poorly suppressed snigger.

  ‘Tell him that he is too inexperienced to help us,’ I said shortly. ‘Knowledge of warfare comes from practice and experience.’

  I expected the stranger to depart, but, to my astonishment, he spoke long and earnestly to Haldi. Haldi appeared to try to argue with him, but the young man protested passionately. At last reluctantly, Haldi turned back to us.

  ‘He says that through study he probably knows more about warfare than you will ever know, Lord Lovell,’ he began apologetically. ‘He has pointed out that neither of you have guessed the French plan, which he has. Therefore, he proposes a bargain. He will explain the plan to you. If both of you believe it, you will publicly endorse him when he explains it to the others in Maximilian’s tent tomorrow.’

  The young man spoke again.

  ‘He says that you would all benefit from the arrangement because, while he knows the French plan, he does not believe there is a way to counter it. By working together, you could come up with a solution. He asks whether you agree to his proposal.’

  Instinctively, I glanced at Broughton, who nodded slowly.

  ‘We have nothing to lose, Francis.’

  ‘All right we agree,’ I told Haldi. ‘But I will only endorse him if I think he is right.’

  Haldi conveyed this message to the stranger who was already sketching some form of diagram in the dust.

  ‘He understands, my lord.’

  ‘Good. Now ask him his name.’

  There was a rapid exchange between the two of them.

  ‘His name is Swartz, my lord – Martin Swartz. He asks you both to concentrate as the key to the French strategy is the manner in which they use their large wooden shields or pavises, as they are called.

  ‘He says it is obvious how the French will use the pavises. He would now like to explain to you the French plan to stop our columns and annihilate the Burgundian Army.’

  We all squatted and looked at Swartz’s dust drawings.

  ‘Normally, when faced by attacking columns of pikemen, you would spread your crossbowmen out over your whole front. But then the enemy’s archers or crossbowmen shoot at your own, so there is no significant gain for either side. Equally, you would, under normal circumstances, use your archers with cavalry to harry the flanks of the advancing column. These, however, are not the tactics that the French will use.’

  Swartz gave a small smile and continued to talk to Haldi.

  ‘He says what he would do – if he was the French – is try and separate out our two columns. He would do everything he could to slow down the smaller column of the Count of Nassau, but he would allow our own column to advance completely unopposed.’

  Haldi gestured to the dust drawings.

  ‘He says he would concentrate all of his crossbowmen behind the pavises, which he would lay out in a long line to face the bigger column of the Count of Romout. He would place the majority of crossbowmen behind the pavises and the others would go at either end.’

  His finger traced the line of pavises in the dust.

  ‘Now, while a crossbow is accurate at seventy paces, it has a range of 300 paces. He wonders how accurate you need to be to hit a target of 6,000 men all bunched together. He also points out that crossbow bolts can penetrate armour.’

  Broughton and I stared at the dust. It was beginning to sound plausible.

  ‘He would fire off the first volley of bolts – probably 1,000 – at a distance of 200 or 300 paces. The next 1,000 crossbowmen fire immediately afterwards. While they reload, the next 1,000 men fire. He estimates that at least two out of three bolts would find a target. In the confusion, there would be time to fire off at least two more volleys.’

  Swartz smiled sadly and demonstrated the length of the line of pavises with a gesture; Haldi listened and turned to us.

  ‘He notes that the cleverness of the French plan is that their line of crossbowmen is much longer than the width of the advancing column. Consequently, they are able to hit the front and sides of the column simultaneously. Additionally, their men are safe from the archers, since they are behind the pavises. It would require three volleys to reduce the column to a complete ruin. But they will probably use five or six before they send in the cavalry and men-at-arms to finish off what is left of it. Having destroyed the larger column, the crossbowmen would wheel to their right and fire at the flank of the Count of Nassau’s column, which, of course, has been slowed down. Again, 3,000 bolts firing into tightly packed troops would cause havoc. The second and third volleys would destroy them completely.’

  It sounded devastating but convincing.

  ‘How can we use our archers to counter these pavises?’ I asked Thomas David, who I had sent for. He looked despondent.

  ‘Arrows will not penetrate the pavises, except at point-blank range. We could try firing over the top of them, but we would lose accuracy and most likely the French would have helmets and some form of upper-body armour.’

  I turned to Haldi.

  ‘Ask Martin Swartz whether he believes we could use the archers to make a flank attack. It would be hard for the crossbowmen to concentrate on what was in front of them if they were being shot at from th
e side.’

  He considered the question for a few moments.

  ‘It is a possibility, but with the French being superior in numbers, it is likely they will put a very strong guard on either end of their line: archers, crossbowmen, men-at-arms, possibly cavalry. He fears that your flank attack would not stop the columns being defeated.’

  Broughton, who had been studying the dust drawings, rose up stiffly.

  ‘There is no doubt he’s right, Francis. It makes perfect sense to separate out the two columns, destroy the bigger one and then turn on the second, smaller one.’

  Thomas Davis looked at him gloomily.

  ‘And there is not much that we archers can do to prevent it.’

  Without doubt, Swartz’s analysis of the French battle tactics was totally correct. Safely protected behind their row of pavises, the French crossbowmen could wait for the huge column to come into range and then pulverise it with volley after volley of armour-piercing crossbow bolts. Packed tightly together in pike formation, it would be hard to miss and the moment the column began to disintegrate the French cavalry would complete the slaughter.

  I stood up and gestured to Haldi.

  ‘Tell Swartz that we believe he is totally accurate in his thinking.

  ‘So now all we have to do is to think of a way of defeating the French.’

  Broughton plucked at his beard, a sure sign that he was thinking, Swartz began to draw more lines in the dust, talking to Haldi as he did so.

  I too began to think, but after a while I turned to Broughton.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I can’t honestly say that anything springs to mind instantly,’ he admitted. ‘It seems to me that not only do the French outnumber us, but they have useful things like cannon and cavalry that we don’t.’

  ‘Well, we have three cannon and then there are our archers.’

  ‘Which will be rendered useless by the French pavises,’ he pointed out.

  We fell silent, but then Broughton gestured to Swartz who was still imparting information to Haldi.

  ‘Judging by the way he’s ticking the points off by using his fingers, I reckon that he has thought of something.’

  We waited expectantly; Swartz’s plan was obviously not a simple one. He was now on to the fingers of his other hand. Broughton cocked his head for a few moments and then turned to me excitedly.

  ‘I understand maybe one word in a hundred, but I think Swartz is talking about a night attack,’ he whispered.

  I let Swartz talk for a few more minutes and then I poked Haldi.

  ‘Can you give me a synopsis of his plan?’

  ‘His plan?’

  ‘Yes, for the night attack on the French.’

  Haldi looked puzzled, but then his face cleared.

  ‘You are mistaken, my lord,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Martin Swartz knows of no way to defeat the French. He was, however, explaining why a night attack could not work.’

  I put my head in my hands and groaned – dear God, what a mess!

  ‘Would you like to hear his detailed reasoning as to why it would not work?’ enquired Haldi helpfully.

  ‘No, I don’t! Just ask him if he knows of anything that could work. Neither Broughton nor I can think of anything.’

  A moment later Haldi turned back apologetically.

  ‘He regrets that there is no logical way to defeat the French. The only way that the Burgundian columns could get anywhere near the French Army was if they were invisible.’

  I don’t know what reaction Haldi expected from me. Possibly he thought I would be angry at such facetiousness or just look disappointed, but my lack of response evidently worried him as, after a moment, he touched my shoulder and asked if I felt all right. With an effort, I focused on him.

  ‘I’m fine, thank you.’ Then I pointed to Swartz. ‘Tell him that I know how to make men invisible.’

  For a small man with a frail manner, Martin Swartz should have been an unremarkable orator, but as he spoke that evening in Maximilian’s tent he had his audience’s undivided attention and not just because he had my public backing.

  Quietly, but with complete conviction, he took the Burgundian nobles, his fellow officers and Maximilian through the French’s probable battle tactics. Watching the assembled crowd’s faces change from scepticism to interest, it was clear they all believed him. But when Swartz described, with mathematical precision, how the French could annihilate both columns successively, their interest turned to despair.

  After he had finished delivering his account, there were a number of questions, but Swartz answered these in a tone of calm efficiency and gradually, as his explanation of the French battle plan unfolded, the spaces between the questions became longer and longer. It was as if the men inside the tent came to realise the hopelessness of their situation and the inevitability of defeat.

  Maximilian looked at Swartz heavily and asked a question. Swartz gestured at me and, prodding Haldi, I stepped forward.

  ‘There is a solution, Your Highness. It is an unusual one, but it will work.’ I paused, conscious that everyone was staring at me. ‘The only way to counter the threat of those crossbowmen is to conceal your advancing column from them so that you can be on top of them before they realise you are there.’

  A shouted question from Strolheim interrupted me. Haldi translated.

  I winked at Broughton.

  ‘I have it on particularly good authority that a night attack would not work,’ I replied. ‘It is difficult to advance pikemen in such conditions and the French would know we were coming. There would be sufficient light to fire at us and the result would be as Martin Swartz has already advised.’

  It did not seem tactful to point out that as soon as it was explained to the Flemings that they had to attack at night because they faced 3,000 crossbowmen firing from a defended position, most would promptly desert. I tried to be diplomatic.

  ‘Your idea is cleverly thought out though…’

  There was another bellow from Strolheim. Haldi swallowed.

  ‘He asks what your solution is.’

  ‘To shoot fire-arrows.’

  There was silence and then a murmuring in the tent, which I duly ignored.

  ‘We will not use normal arrows, but will shoot fire-arrows in front of the French line. The stubble will burn easily in the ground, since it is so dry. There is no water to extinguish the fires and, after a few volleys, we should have created a fire sufficiently big to make enough smoke for the Count of Romount’s column to approach unseen.’

  There was total silence for a moment and then an excited babble of German and French chatter erupted. Haldi did not bother to translate, but I could see from the excited expressions and smiles that the idea had caught their imagination. A few moments ago, they had been facing the prospect of total defeat. Now they were imagining the vast column advancing through billowing fire and smoke to burst unexpectedly on the unprepared French. Instead of being destroyed before they had even reached the French line, they could now picture slaughtering the French without even so much as a shot being fired. I watched the happy expressions and heard jovial laughter.

  Swartz and I exchanged smiles and I raised my hand.

  ‘And now I would like my captain of archers to explain how we will operate the fire-arrows.

  Prudently, Thomas David kept his speech short. Only a few of the archers would carry fire-arrows. The remainder would protect them and shoot at any French who attempted to leave their lines to try to extinguish the fires. Someone asked a question, which Haldi translated. Thomas David looked at me and I stepped forward to answer.

  ‘There will be no protection to the flank of the column because there will be no attack on it. Remember that the French plan has one key objective – the separation of our two columns. It follows that if they are to slow down and harry our smaller column, then they want our larger column to advance as quickly as possible, so they may destroy it before firing on the smaller column. Now the way we will counter their plan
is by starting the fires before the column makes its final advance. The range of the fire-arrow is shorter than that of a normal arrow, so it will be necessary to have all those archers advance in front of the column within range of the French crossbowmen, while their colleagues shoot at the enemy line and guard their flanks against horsemen. As such, the column should pause 500 paces or so from the French lines until the archers had done their job and advance when they see fit.’

  There were sounds of approval and another question. I looked at Thomas David.

  ‘We can fire three fire-arrows a minute,’ he said, ‘and at least ten normal ones. We are hoping that the French will not be tempted to fire at us, but will retain their shots for the column. When the fires start they will probably shoot, but by then it will be too late for them. Now, coming to what we will require; I need linen, ropes, fire-pots…’

  Maximilian interrupted me, and Haldi gestured to the German officers.

  ‘He says they will ensure that he has all you require immediately. He says that he will donate his tent for linen and ropes. He asks if anyone disagrees with either the analysis of the French tactics or the proposed battle plan.’ I was relieved to see that no one did. ‘Then it is the duty of everyone to assist and add improvements to the plan that has been outlined. The army will march tomorrow. The battle will be fought in three days’ time and he is totally confident of victory.’ There was the beginning of applause, but Maximilian held up his hand to prepare to make a final point. ‘He says he is grateful to Martin Swartz and the English.’

  The gathering broke up happily and Thomas Broughton nudged me.

  ‘We seem popular, don’t we?’ he muttered. ‘Shall we see if Maximilian’s servants will let us have some of his wine?’

  Later, Haldi found us and led us outside. He took us to Strolheim, who was surrounded by a group of six or seven olive-skinned, dark-haired men, some of whom wore aprons. They were shouting at him excitedly; one was waving an arrow, I noticed. Strolheim hushed the chattering crowd and spoke to Haldi who turned to me.