by Frank Payton
Houses were shuttered, doors barred. But we made no stops and made no searches, neither for people nor anything of value. I had given orders that no one should break into houses or other buildings, on pain of severe punishment, since we were uncertain then as to whose lands we passed through. Until a reliable guide could be found it would have been the greatest folly to plunder our own patron’s land and people.
We rode on through a golden autumn day. The country was well wooded on the lower slopes, with groves of walnut and chestnut trees. Here we lost the clean smell of the pine forest above and were met with warmer odours from the woodlands, mixed with the farmyard smells familiar to many. This was a land of rich pasture and cultivated fields, with many olive trees and vineyards.
John rode with me, and was visibly taken with all these sights.
“These peasants must be rich, Jack,” he said in his deep voice. “Look at these crops! Much better than at home. Everything seems to be twice the size. God! I only scratched a bare living back in Essex!”
“So I see. I know little of these matters. My family were tanners, and we did not till our own land but rented it out to others; but I agree that this all looks very fine, better by far than many parts of France you and I have fought over.”
It came to my mind then that it would be a fine thing to have a large holding of land here, and to be a seigneur with castle and moat. Perhaps, if Fortune smiled on me, I thought, I might achieve that. In addition, a wife would no doubt be useful and prestigious.
At noon the Company split into three columns. Albrecht led his Almains off to the right, John took half of our English to the left, and I remained in the centre with the rest. It was a familiar manoeuvre, often adopted in France. We maintained links between the columns by means of riders passing to and fro.
I occupied my mind by thinking back on recent events. I eventually realised that there were several areas where more detailed knowledge would be very useful. Therefore I sent Ralph back to fetch the lad Marco to ride with me. Soon they rode up, laughing and talking together as if they had been friends from boyhood, instead of adversaries only two days before.
“Well, Master Marco Bandini,” I greeted him, “how do we find you this morning?”
“In good health, I thank you, Signore. My foot is not broken, only sprained. So that is good.” He eyed me anxiously. “But Ugo died in the night. Your men buried him, God rest his soul. What do you want of me?”
“I am sorry to hear that your comrade is dead, but he was sore wounded, as we know. What do I want of you? I think there is more to be known of Lanzo.”
“So, if I tell you everything I know, then you will have me killed, yes?” He gave me a shrewd look.
I realised then that this was no ordinary youth. He had evidently pondered on the matter, and would use his knowledge to buy his freedom, perhaps. I tried again.
“Let us leave the matter of Lanzo for the present. Tell me about yourself. How did you come to be with the soldiers who attacked us?”
Marco was silent for while, apparently gathering his thoughts. “I was born in Genoa, and I am twenty years old. My father was a shipping agent in the port. We were not a rich family, but of good standing. My mother was the youngest daughter of a rich merchant, but he gave us little, the miser! When I was five years old the plague came to Genoa, and my parents died. I had been taken away to the country by my father’s brother. We escaped death by travelling high into the mountains. The air was clean, and the sickness did not reach there.”
He paused and looked away across the grassy countryside towards the far mountains. His dark face was solemn.
“And what then?” I asked. “When did you return to Genoa?”
“When I was eight. My uncle left me with a farming family who owed him service. They looked after me as one of their own and were kind to me, an orphan child. In Genoa I lived with my uncle and his wife, and they had no children of their own. On my seventeenth birthday he took me to the military barracks and enlisted me under the Captain Grimaldi. Thus I became a soldier and learned to use the crossbow. You will know, Signore, that the crossbowmen of Genoa are famed far and wide for their bravery and skills, and are sought after by many leaders of armies.”
“Indeed they are,” I said. “but they met their match at Crecy Field. Our longbows won the day then.”
Marco laughed. “I was not there that day, Signore. Perhaps if I had been—?”
It was my turn to smile. I liked the lad. In the midst of an enemy host he could jest.
“At that battle, Marco, I was just one archer amongst six thousand others. We could shoot so fast that some men could have four shafts in the air at once. Your crossbowmen could not match that. In addition, the French were too rash and rode down to come at us. They were slaughtered for their impatience.”
He looked at me wide-eyed. “So then it is true, as I have heard from the old ones? It seemed to them that the sky poured forth arrows like a storm.”
“It must have appeared so. Perhaps if you were to stay with us you might see this for yourself.” I did not look at him.
He was silent for a while. Then he said, “After we attacked your company the riders were supposed to take us on their horses when we withdrew. But most did not stay to help us, and your men-at-arms slew many of my company. Our horsemen broke their word.”
I said nothing, and after a while he spoke again. “I could serve such a leader as you, Signore. It seems you are a man of honour.”
“And what would you do for me, Marco? Why should I take you into my service? Not so long ago you were trying to kill my men.”
“Ah, that was my duty, but my leaders abandoned me, and others who did not survive as I have done. To you I owe my life, but now I owe them nothing. In a strange land you need someone who knows the country, the people, the language; someone who can go about unnoticed, and find out what is of use and of interest to you. At need, I can pass where your men cannot. Besides, I hear that you will fight against Milan. The tyrant Bernabo tries to extend his power, and sooner or later Genoa will have to fight for survival. I would help you in your fight.”
“Very well, I accept your service, Marco, on one condition.” I took off my right glove, and held out my hand to him. His face clouded.
“What would that be?” he asked.
“You shall teach me to speak Italian.” I laughed at his relieved look.
He grasped my hand firmly and kissed it, and laughed in his turn.
“I am your man, Signore Gianni, to the death. And now there is something I should tell you, I think, about which I have as yet said nothing. At first I thought it of no importance.”
I was curious. “What is that, Marco?”
“It concerns the Almain, as you call him, von Felsingen, the one who, as your servant warned me, would have killed me. I have seen his friend, the cold one, before, and heard his voice. It is so very quiet.”
I could not believe what he was saying, and looked at him sharply. “What foolery is this? How can you have seen him before? When, and where?” My mind raced at the import of what he had said.
“Two weeks ago when we left Genoa, on our way to lay the ambush, we encamped one night at a village. I was told off with some of my companions to act as guards. Late at night some riders appeared, and one of them was von Felsingen’s friend.”
“You mean you saw Conrad Harzmann?” My mind was in a whirl. This news was almost beyond belief. “And?”
“He and one or two other Tedeschi—Almains, I mean—were accompanied by an Italian. He was very fat, and richly dressed, and he had an escort of several men-at-arms.”
“Indeed? This is all very interesting, Marco, and I thank you for telling me. It seems you understand well the importance of such information. I shall not forget. Be sure of that.”
We rode on, and I tried to fit this news into the happenings of the past few days. One thing was sure. The fat Italian could only have been Lamberti.
*****
We co
ntinued our march towards Lanzo, helped now by Marco’s knowledge of the country. He was able to say that we were then passing through the lands of the Conte Verde. And so we began to help ourselves to whatever presented itself in the way of plunder. Sweeping through the countryside, we garnered a rich harvest of cash and kind, and left smoking farms, villages, and small towns in our wake. Saddlebags bulged with gold and silver coins, crucifixes, chalices, plates and dishes, precious stones, costly tapestries, and silk stuffs from the East.
It wasn’t all without cost, however. At times we were stoutly opposed by the local militias, well armed with sword, pike, and crossbow. Then we had to fight hard, and we took losses, and gained little. But that is a soldier’s life. There was no respite for the wounded, who had to ride on or be left behind to be picked off by the peasants.
I had taken the opportunity at one of my meetings with Albrecht to put Marco forward as a valuable new recruit. Luckily Albrecht saw and appreciated the wisdom of my action. Of course von Felsingen looked down his long nose, but he could do nothing to change matters. It was clear even to him that the lad could be of great assistance to us.
As to the matter of who, if anyone, had informed Werner of the attack on our column, there was little satisfaction for me. Will Preston spoke to all the scouts, but not one admitted to telling the Almains they had met on patrol. This caused me grave concern, for clearly if one of our men had not told of the attack, then Werner must have either been informed afterwards by our enemy, or have known beforehand that the attack was to take place. When I took into account what Marco had told me about Harzmann and Lamberti, one or the other seemed likely. I pondered over whether to take Albrecht into my confidence, but decided in the end to say nothing, and to see how matters fell out.
*****
The Company resolved itself once more into one large column for the remainder of our progress. By now the local folk had warning of our approach and prudently fled. We marched through empty farmlands and towns, hastily abandoned. There was less valuable plunder, but plenty of provender left behind in the granaries. Our diet grew monotonous, but neither we nor the horses went hungry.
Finally, one August afternoon we came in sight of Lanzo. The town lies in a wide valley watered by several streams or small rivers, which spring from the mountain snows far away to the north on the borders of France. As soon as we were able, Albrecht and I, together with John Brise, von Felsingen, and a small escort of mounted men-at-arms and archers, set out towards the town to look over the approaches and what we might see of the defences. Marco rode with us to point out details which otherwise might have escaped us.
We drew rein about five hundred yards from the town walls, and it was easy to see that they had been repaired recently. The road led straight towards a heavily gated arch in the wall before us. There was a glitter of weapons above the gate. We were being watched.
Marco pointed. “This is the West Gate, Signori. There are three others in the walls. Over there you can see where the Count has built a new tower. The old one had fallen into decay and was taken down.”
We could see the squat tower in the centre of the town rising above the red-tiled roofs of the houses. It appeared to be strongly constructed and easily defensible. Arrow slits pierced the walls at regular intervals, and there was an overhang at the top to allow for stones and other missiles to be rained down on any attacker.
“What about water supplies?” I asked.
“One of these small rivers runs through the town, passing under the walls through two arched passages. Iron grilles bar the way in each one, but they are very old, I think.”
“And well rusted away by now, I’ll warrant, and mostly forgotten,” added Albrecht, turning to Marco. “Isn’t that so?”
“I don’t know, Master Sterz, but come the dark, I will find out for you.”
Albrecht looked across at me. I nodded in agreement. This would be an interesting test of Marco’s new found loyalty, and I knew that the lad would recognize it as such.
As we continued with the inspection, it became evident that we had been expected. An air of watchfulness lay overall. There was none of the usual hum of activity to be expected from a town the size of Lanzo. We noted that although there was no moat, a deep ditch surrounded the town at a distance of twenty yards or so from the walls.
John pointed to this. “We’ll need something to help us cross that in an attack. We can’t all bunch together on the roads.”
“You’re right.” I turned to Will Preston. “We’ll need bundles of reeds or small tree branches, many hundreds of them. Set the men to work on this at first light tomorrow morning.”
“Better to order each man to make his own, Jack. It will be much quicker that way,” said Albrecht. “I will issue the same order to my people.”
“A good plan. D’you hear that, Will?” I called to him.
“Aye, Sir John. I’ll attend to it.”
“We’ll need to block these roads as well, Jack,” said John. “Then they’ll be in trap of their own making. The ditch will keep them in, but won’t keep us out.”
“Well thought of, John,” said Albrecht. “I’d suggest placing two hundred men on each road as a guard. Say a hundred and fifty men-at-arms, and fifty archers. That should stop any comings and goings. What do you say, Jack?”
I agreed this new plan, and we returned to camp to put it into effect. John Brise prevailed upon me to appoint the Yorkshire man-at-arms from his company, Matt Sayers, as one commander, and I took similar advice from Jack Onsloe when I decided the other would be Wat Ferrers. Both men had long experience in the field, and we knew they could be relied upon to carry out their duties properly.
As far as the archers were concerned I relied on Giles to make his own decisions, and he picked out Simon Bawdesley and Tom Edricson, both old comrades of mine from the Crecy days. All these men would choose their own companies.
All this being done, I threw myself down upon my pallet to rest before the evening meal.
*****
Next morning I arose and dressed with some care, and went to sit at the table in my pavilion where Ralph was preparing my breakfast. He brought food to me and bowed himself out, leaving me to my own thoughts. The cold morning air wrapped itself about me and I called to him for hot spiced wine, which he brought. After a spell he returned and laid my sword next to me upon the board.
“I’ve cleaned your sword, Sir John,” he said, “and greased the blade against the damp.” He paused. “I’ve polished the scabbard as well.”
Lost in thought I thanked him and continued with my meal. It was not until he refilled my wine cup that I realised how overly attentive he was. I looked up at him and stared, astonished to see his dishevelled appearance. His clothes were damp and bedraggled, and he seemed unable to keep his eyes open for very long.
“What is it, boy? You look as though you have not slept, and you’re wet and besmirched with mud.”
He shook himself, and stood up a little straighter. A slow smile spread over his face. “Marco and I went into the town last night—under the walls. It’s not hard, but the water is icy cold.”
I gaped at him. This was startling news. “Where is Marco?”
“Fast asleep, I think, Sir John.”
“Then wake him, and bring him here to me. I must hear what he has to say before anyone else. Do not speak a word of this to any other soul. Understand?”
Within a short space Marco stood before me, grinning broadly.
“Buon giorno, Signore. I hope you are well.”
“Never mind how I am. What did you think you were doing in the night? The two of you could have been captured, perhaps killed. What made you go on such a mad escapade?” I spoke sharply.
He looked crestfallen. “I told Master Sterz I would find a way into the town.”
“Yes, you did, and I agreed that you should. But why did you not tell me when you were going? Why take Ralph? He could not pass for an Italian like you.”
“The town
was all confusion. Many men were camped everywhere, in the streets, in the squares. It was dark. No one took any notice of us at all. What is yet one more page, one more soldier, in such a place?”
He made a sudden gesture of impatience. “Sir John, do you want to know what we found out, Ralph and I, or are we to be punished for helping your cause?”
I relented. “No, I suppose not. But in future, such ventures must be planned more carefully. You must learn to cover all possibilities. Leave word with me of what you intend. Ask me what I want to know, or you might miss something of importance. Go now and fetch something to eat and drink, and sit with me here at the table.”
They obeyed with alacrity, and I proceeded to question them.
“Well, what did you discover? How did you enter the town, Marco?”
He gulped at his wine, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “We avoided our own people, who are encamped across each road as you know, went down into the ditch and out again until we were able to reach the walls. That was easy. Next we followed the wall around to where the stream runs underneath from the west. Luckily the level of the water was not so high as at the top of the arch, and we plunged in up to our waists. By all the Saints! It froze the blood in our legs so that we could scarce feel our feet. I have never been so cold! We pressed on under the wall. There was no light, so we had to feel our way. After about a spear’s length in, we came up against the iron bars of the grille, which extends below the level of the water. We felt all over this ironwork for weaknesses, but there were none. Then we had to quickly retrace our steps, get out of the water, and recover the feeling in our legs.”
“How were the iron bars held in place?” I asked.
“Oh, they were well set into the spaces between the stones, and held with mortar. We could not move them at all, even though we threw all our weight upon one which seemed thinner than the others, but all to no avail.”