Hawkwood's Sword

by Frank Payton

  No sooner had I done this and returned to my own seat then the burly figure of von Auerbach ducked through the flaps of the pavilion. On his seeing me, a wide smile spread itself over his scarred face.

  “Herr Hawkwood! It is a pleasure and a relief to see you here again. You have been sorely missed. Wolf tells me Albrecht is ill.”

  “Apart from that, he’s drunk, Hannes.” I held out my hands in greeting. He grasped them firmly and looked squarely into my eyes.

  “Yes, I am used to hearing this,” he said, and sighed. “The plague affected him greatly, and the rumoured desertion of Werner, Conrad and their men do nothing to help his misery. I could do little but await your return.”

  He sat down heavily in one of the carven chairs. I began carefully.

  “Whilst Albrecht is, er, ill, Hannes, I want you to act for him. I will answer for you when he is recovered. It is now needful for us strike back at Landau. Where can we hurt the Count in his own pride and person to tempt him to battle?”

  Von Auerbach frowned. “I believe he has a castle and a village at Briona, to which he is very attached. That would be a good place to begin with.”

  “Good. When Albrecht is sober, I will get him to approve. In the meantime, we had better make some preparations. Come to my pavilion for the evening meal, and bring those with you in whom you repose most trust. Our plans must be kept secret from any likely turncoats.”

  Hannes stood up and we shook hands once more. “I understand, and I thank you. Perhaps we can now begin to weather this storm together.” With that he left, and I spoke to Wolf again.

  “You heard what Herr Auerbach and I spoke about?” He nodded. “You will say nothing of these matters to anyone. Understand?”

  “Ja, I understand, Herr Hawkwood. Also I will tell you when my master has recovered.”

  I left then and returned to my own quarters, and called for Huw.

  “Go around to all my chief men and say that we shall meet some of the Almain officers here at table over the evening meal tonight. Tell Will Turton that I want the best wine and food.” He turned to leave. “Oh, and send Marco to me.”

  When Marco arrived I was at my usual place at the long table trying to put together a plan of attack upon Briona. He slid into a nearby chair. “Yes, Sir John. What may I do for you?” he offered.

  “I want you to play the innocent traveller again, and ride to Briona. It lies to the south of here, on small river, so I am told. Become my eyes and ears once more, and explore the way and the place itself. Count Landau holds a castle there, and we intend to sack the village and the castle.”

  “I will speak to Tom Steyne, and ask if the horse I took before is still with us. It’s just the sort of sorry nag for a poor traveller.”

  “Do that. I want you there and back as soon as possible, but take great care of yourself. I leave it to you when you shall depart, so farewell for the present.” We clasped hands in farewell and so he left.

  *****

  As luck would have it, in the early evening, as a heavy mist was settling, I was out near the main entrance to the camp when a grey shape riding a grey horse trotted silently past me and out into the open country.

  “Who was that?” The guard with me spun around and peered into the gloom.

  “No one, Roger. No one is there,” I replied, but I knew that Marco was on the road to Briona.

  John Brise was the first to arrive for the evening meal. He shouldered his way in and strode up to the top of the board. He sat down and reached for the wine, poured a cupful and swallowed half the contents before sinking back in his seat. He wiped the palm of his hand across his mouth and down over his beard.

  “So what is really amiss with the Almain, then?” he growled, then belched softly.

  “Drunk, and sleeping it off,” I said. “But make sure it doesn’t get about. For anyone else, he is ill and tired from the leftover effects of the plague.”

  “You’re too late,” he scoffed. “Even our men know what happened. That thrice-damned von Felsingen quarrelled with Sterz, and they came to sword strokes. Sterz lost. Then von Felsingen said that we might do better to fight for Milan. That was a week before Niccolo came up here on your orders.”

  “Any trouble with our men?” I asked.

  “Not a lot. I think they were content to await your return, although Belmonte’s Flemings are a bit restless.”

  We were interrupted by the arrival of the Almains, von Auerbach leading his men into the pavilion. There was Heinrich Steiner, whom I already knew, plus Klaus Wegener, Hans Ullmann and Otto Kornfeld, whom I hadn’t met before. They were closely followed by Jack Onsloe and my other lieutenants.

  “Where’s Andrew?” I asked.

  “Off with some woman in the town, I hear,” said Jack. “She’s the wife of a merchant. He’s old, she’s young. Andrew can’t leave her alone, some say.”

  “Oh, do they? Then I’ll see him on the morrow. But now we’ll see what the cooks have sent us."

  Huw directed the lads who brought the food to table. It was rougher and much simpler than I had eaten of late, but it was wholesome fare. There was a great stew of rabbit, hare, quail and partridge, with beans and turnips, and flavoured with wild herbs. It was followed by half a sheep roasted, and several chickens in another stew. There was fresh barley bread, cheese and fruit. With all this and jugs of the good red wine, we were well contented.

  Afterwards we settled down to the business of our next course of action. I told the others that Albrecht on his ‘sickbed’ (there were one or two smiles at that) and I had decided to attack the village of Briona and its castle. As this was a fief granted to Count Landau by the Visconti, it would be the cause of great annoyance to him if we sacked the place. He would want to revenge himself upon us, and so could be brought to battle.

  “If we throw all our forces into this foray, we shall prevail,” I told them. “I hear there have been differences between you whilst I have been away, but for this we must come together again, or we shall not defeat Milan.”

  “We’re not so strong as we were, Sir John,” said John Brise. “Five hundred and more men were lost to the plague. Werner might take away another few hundred. Add to that the men lost in all the other actions since we came into Italy, and we are now down to fewer than four thousand men fit to stand in a battle line.”

  Von Auerbach added his voice. “He speaks truth. We are weaker as well because Werner will take many of our best men, if he goes, and he is a bold leader, whatever his faults.”

  “We still have archers aplenty,” Giles spoke up. “And we now have Varazzo’s crossbows. Together they will outnumber any such under Landau. However, I know he has a few of those Tatar horse archers.”

  “I know,” I said, “And Landau has seen a massed arrow storm, and he’ll know to guard against the worst effects. On the other hand, most of his men have not met us before, so will not know what to expect.”

  “We need them to attack us,” said Jack, “Not the other way around. You know what the King’s tactics were, Sir John, and they stood us in good stead at Brignais.”

  “That is so,” said Steiner, “but Landau is not a mad Frenchman puffed up with chivalry and vainglory. He is more like us, and sees things as we do.”

  “If we conduct this affair properly, we can draw them on to us,” I said. “Are we all agreed on the need for this attack on Briona? Those in agreement, place their right hand on the table.” I slapped mine down as I spoke.

  My men’s hands followed in quick succession, with von Auerbach next. Then came Ullmann and Wegener, and finally Steiner and Kornfeld. I knew that Albrecht would be broadly in agreement, and so the thing was settled.

  “Good. Now you’ve all got two days to prepare your men. Get all repairs to armour, weapons and other equipments done. Sort out the best horses, get them shod, check all their trappings and their condition. Those with a lame horse will have to walk to Briona, and I’ll see that they do. One other thing: I don’t want anybody out of this
camp until we move, on the third day from now. There are too many eyes and ears in the town, and elsewhere. You all know what is needful, so from tomorrow morn let us get to it.”

  They all rose to go, but I waved for my men to remain. I needed further words with them.

  “What then is your plan, Sir John?” began Jack Onsloe, refilling his wine cup.

  “Before we come to that,” I answered, “Let me say that I have sent Marco south to Briona. He left earlier this evening, and should be back, God willing, by tomorrow’s afternoon. Until he returns, my plan must wait. It will stand on what he discovers.”

  “This Briona is not far then?” asked Will Preston.

  “Not far, but that is not important now,” I said. “What I want to make sure is that we do not fail in this enterprise. If we do, the campaign will drag on and we shall lose men. They will drift away in search of more profitable employment. By waiting for us to attack him, Bernabo Visconti can wear us down. We’ve lost men in fruitless general forays to no effect or profit. But if we hurt Landau enough, he will lose his head and come seeking revenge.”

  John Brise pushed back his chair and stood up. “If there’s nought else, Sir John, I’m for bed. It’s late.” He yawned hugely and stretched out his arms.

  I sat back. “No, that will do for this night; but remember, all of you, when Marco returns and tells me of what he has seen, then I shall have some idea of what action to take. There must be no leaks of information which could get back to Landau. We know not yet if any Almains will defect, so we must keep our intention secret.”

  With that, they all filed out of the pavilion. I finished my wine and, replacing the cup upon the table, walked to the entrance and stood looking out at the night sky. The camp was quiet. Only a few voices could be heard here and there, and there was a smell of woodsmoke borne on the night wind. Somewhere amongst the nearby trees an owl screeched. I hoped the bird had caught its prey, as I wished to catch mine.

  *****

  The late afternoon air began to strike chill as I walked back from a tour of inspection, both of the men and the camp, which I had made to reassure myself of our readiness to meet the challenge ahead. The sun was setting, turning the sky and clouds to a richness of reds and golds by the time I reached the entrance to my pavilion. As I ducked through the door flaps, I called to Huw to bring out candles that I might see in the dimness of the interior. A voice came out of the darkness, and being startled by the sound, I had laid my hand on the hilt of my sword before I realised that Marco must have returned, unseen by me, and likely enough not by anyone else.

  “The candles are here, Sir John,” said Huw, as he entered. He grinned mischievously as he set them on the table. “Marco asked me to keep a watch for you, and then to bring them directly. I will return with more.” He bowed, and left the two of us alone.

  “It is good to be back, Sir John,” said Marco, as we clasped hands in greeting. I noted he was still wrapped in the grey cloak which he was wearing when he had left the day before.

  “It is good to have you back safely,” I said. “Sit you down, and we will have some wine to celebrate your return. Have you eaten?”

  He shrugged himself out of the cloak, tossed it onto the back of a chair and sat down. “Thank you, yes, but not since the morning. I have had enough, I think, to sustain me until the evening meal.”

  Huw came in with more candles, and I asked him to bring a jug of wine and cups for us. He brought them, and left again to supervise the cooks who would be preparing our meal. I poured the wine and pushed a cup over to Marco. We each took a cup and drank to the other. As we did so, I looked at Marco over the rim of my cup. Since joining the Company before Lanzo, he had grown. In a matter of months, he had gone from boyishness to manhood. He was taller, and had a seriousness about him which belied his years. His clothes were now more of our English pattern, and he wore them with an air of confidence born of the experience he had gained with us. As an observer and a spy, he was proving to be invaluable. We set our cups upon the table. It was time for his report.

  “Well now, what have you discovered?” I asked, eager to hear his news.

  “Briona is but a small village set between two streams,” he said. “To one side is a castle which houses a garrison of Landau’s men. It lies between the meeting of the streams. Otherwise, it is a quiet area of farmland and forest.”

  “How many men are there at the castle, do you think?” This was something I especially needed to know.

  Marco shrugged. “I did not have the chance to see inside the castle for myself, but there were half a dozen or so in the tavern where I ate, slept and watered my horse. They were all Almains. It seemed that they were newly returned from Milan, with a string of fifteen pack horses, and were going to the castle with supplies. If most of what they had was food and drink for a month or so, then I would say that there might be thirty to forty men all told.”

  “I take it that there was no sign of urgency then,” I said. “No hurried preparations, no sign of an impending visit from Landau?”

  “No,” he answered. “I talked to some of the people in the tavern in a general way, but directed their thoughts towards the castle and the soldiers. They told me that Il Conti Lando, as they called him, visited the village often and stayed sometimes for weeks on end, hunting and holding banquets for his chief men and others. The villagers to whom I spoke seemed to think kindly of him.”

  “Hmmm, perhaps he treats them well, and they feel that they are protected,” I said. “How much of a barrier against attack are the two streams?”

  “They are small rivers, but are shallow and and can be crossed easily unless there is rain or flooding. They meet just to the south of Briona, and spring from a low range of hills to the north.” He finished his wine, set down the cup and looked at me, and said in a quiet voice, “It will not be a difficult place to take, Sir John.”

  I laughed. “Ha, I will send you and a dozen more then.” We both laughed.

  “Five hundred will be enough for both the village and the castle. The people will flee, and the garrison cannot hold out against a determined attack. They will surrender the castle, claim their right to march out under a flag of truce, and return to Milan.”

  “You know my mind, Marco, almost as well as I know it myself,” I told him, for it was true that his words could have been mine own. “That is what I want to bait the trap. Landau will not be able to resist coming out against us in strength. He will be blinded by a desire for revenge, and we shall be ready.”

  Our talk was interrupted by the appearance of Wolf, Albrecht’s page, who stepped carefully into the pavilion and bowed.

  “Yes, Wolf?” I said. “What says my old friend, Albrecht? I suppose him to be recovered from from his illness now, and wishing to see me?”

  “That is true, Sir John. He would be grateful if you would attend him directly, before the evening meal. May I say that you will?” He waited anxiously.

  “I will be along to see him as soon as Master Bandini and I have finished our talk. Tell Albrecht that I am pleased to hear that he is recovered.”

  “I shall do that,” said the boy, and bowed himself out—in his usual stiffly correct fashion, which never failed to amuse me.

  “Accompany me, will you?” I asked Marco. “Your presence might avoid an unseemly quarrel between the two of us.”

  “Are things so bad between you then?” he asked.

  “Albrecht appears to have taken against me. How much of this is due to the effects of the plague, and too much wine, I know not. But we shall have to await the outcome.”

  We left the pavilion then and went out to the horses. Huw had brought Boy from the lines, and Marco remounted the strong but sorry-looking rouncey which had carried him to Briona and back.

  Albrecht was seated in his usual chair when Marco and I entered his pavilion. When he rose to greet us, I noted a great change in his appearance from the day before. Something of his old look had returned, and he stood tall and straight.
He was properly shaven, except for his small beard, and his greying black hair was neatly arranged. His clothes were in his favourite colours of black and silver, and he no longer shivered under a heavy cloak as with fever. He rose and came towards us with outstretched hand.

  “Jack, I am pleased to see you here. It is well for me that you are returned. I regret my hasty words of yesterday, and hope that you will forgive them.” We shook hands, and of course I forgave him, though I wondered secretly at the sudden change in his manner.

  He turned to Marco. “You, Master Bandini, are also welcome. Will you both have wine? Wolf! Some wine for my guests.”

  I think Marco was also taken aback by this effusive welcome. He well knew that Albrecht was not given to such displays, and he caught my eye, raising an eyebrow in question. I lifted my shoulders to show my own uncertainty.

  “Waes Hael, Albrecht!” I raised my cup as did Marco. “You are not drinking?”

  “Thank you, no. I have decided that too much wine is not good for in our present situation. So, only at mealtimes will I drink wine. Now, Jack, Hannes tells me that you have devised a stratagem to bring Landau to open battle.” He smiled at my obvious surprise, and raised a hand against any protest. “The thing has gone no further. My lesser officers have no knowledge of this, and so the men do not know either, which is as it should be at present.”

  “I am glad to hear you say so,” I replied. “I had hoped to tell you myself, but clearly Hannes has forestalled me. I cannot say that I am at all pleased by this.”

  “Do not blame him, Jack. I had recovered before they all returned yesterday evening, and was told that my commanders were at your table. Poor Hannes was obliged to tell me of your plan as a duty to me, his superior. Have no fear: I do not disagree, and I take no offence. On the contrary, I am pleased. The news shook me out of the lethargy and despair into which I had allowed myself to sink.”