by Frank Payton
We could now see the full extent of Landau’s army. Apart from the remaining horse archers, in the front there were several companies of crossbowmen at intervals between his men-at-arms, who were still mounted. On each flank there was a strong contingent of men-at-arms, and in the centre the Count’s standard moved sluggishly in the light airs. Around him stood his personal bodyguards. They would be knights and picked veterans, I thought.
As I looked over the field, a small bird rose from the meadowland to my right. It soared up and ever up, and when at the peak of its flight, began to pour a liquid trilling song to the earth below. It could be nought else but a lark, such as I remembered last seeing in English fields. Its sweet song recked little of the death which lay beneath its small wings, and only welcomed the springtime of the year. Looking about me I saw that more than my eyes had followed the little bird’s ascent to the heavens. Did those men also think back to their homeland as I did, I wondered?
“They are massing horsemen for the charge, Sir John,” said Marco, from my left. “See the horses being brought forward from the rear.” He pointed with a gauntleted hand.
“Aye, I see it, Marco. Landau has decided to brave the storm. He can do no other. The die is cast for him and his men.” I turned to Albrecht. “How many do you think they muster against us?”
“I have just asked Heinrich the same question,” he replied. “He reckons about three thousand or so. He also says that one of his foreriders has seen Werner’s and Conrad’s pennons on Landau’s right flank.”
I followed his pointing finger and could see the gold and black, red and blue of the traitor Almains. I could also see that they still wore the white surcoats of the Company, as if in defiance of their former leaders.
“Goddamned traitors!” I heard Jack Onsloe’s snarl behind me, and twisted around in my saddle. “Go and command the left,” I told him. “Make sure our men know whom they are facing. Drive them off the field, Jack. No quarter!”
“Aye, no quarter it is then,” he replied, grinning—and spurring his black destrier into movement, he thundered away. His chosen companions streamed after him, to take position on our left flank.
*****
“We should ride along our front, Jack,” said Albrecht. “The men need to see us before onset. I’ll take the right flank if you take the left.”
“Willingly, my friend,” I said, and held out my hand to him. He shook it firmly, and so we parted. I watched him go, and wondered if I should see him again. “Ride with me, Marco, and you, Huw.”
We threaded our way through the ranks of men-at-arms and spearmen, to the accompaniment of a mixture of coarse jests and acclaim. “Where’s the gold, Sir John?” came a voice I knew.
I looked down at a tall dark-faced figure in well-worn armour, who leaned on a shortened lance. He grinned up at me.
“In your purse a week ago, Nick,” I said. “You asked Will Turton for an advance of pay, he gave it to you, and now you will have to earn it. Don’t try to avoid paying by getting killed; I’ve a feeling Will might ask the Devil to send you back.”
His comrades laughed at his downcast face. Nick’s greed for money was as much a thirst as for women and wine.
I raised my voice so more of the men around could hear me. “All of you will earn your pennies today, when we defeat this Count. I’ve little doubt there’ll be some rich pickings on the field afterwards.”
“There’s more of us from Essex here, Sir John,” came another voice.
“Then if you men of Essex want to see your homes again sometime, fight well today,” I called back, and passed on through to our front, to be met by Giles and Will Preston on the open ground in front of the archers.
“We saw those black devils off, Sir John,” Giles crowed, leaning on his bow. “Now we’re ready for the others. My lads are waiting.”
“Aye, and you’ll be ready to scuttle behind the spears when they get too near, as well, my lad,” grumbled Will. “Us poor souls’ll have to take the brunt, as ever.”
“And we’ll pick off a few more for you whilst you’re pushing and shoving,” said Giles, laughing.
“Don’t let them through. That’s all,” I told them both. We can’t afford a broken line. It is their numbers against our position. Just do your best to keep them out, all of you.”
It was good to see the men in high spirits. We passed on down the line to where Jack Onsloe and Matt Sayers sat their horses, amongst the men of the left flank. John held his sword across the back of his horse, the blade resting upon his forearm behind his shield.
“Hold this flank, Jack—and you, John. I see there are some crossbows as well as archers in the woods.”
“Yes, Sir John. I’m glad they are there,” said Jack. “Giles sent them before you arrived. They’ll help break up any charge on this side."
“Good, and I know there are others on the right,” I said. “So, we can only wait now.”
“I see we’re facing that forsworn bastard, von Felsingen.” Jack waved his arm towards the enemy opposite.
“Yes,” I told him. “You can finish him for good, and his Shadow, if you can catch them.” He grunted a reply, and I turned away. “God save all here,” I called out as we left.
The men raised a gruff cheer as we rode away. We soon regained our place a few ranks back of the centre of the line. From the height of Boy’s saddle and the ridge upon which we rested, I could see across to Landau’s position. As I watched there came a blare of trumpets, and the distant horsemen began their advance.
They came on bravely with pennons flying, trumpets blaring, and at a steadily increasing pace. As they drew nearer and nearer, their lances swung down to the level position. In front of me I could hear Giles yelling orders at the top of his voice, and the shouts of the ventainers as they passed the message along the line.
At two hundred-odd yards the shrieking white arrow-storm burst upon the front ranks, and was repeated again and again. The horsemen went down, their mounts kicking and screaming, the riders thrown off and struggling to rise, or dying. The second line rode over and through the wreck of the first, yelling their defiance.
The attack slowed at the stream, and the riders took more punishment from the bowmen’s shafts, added to which, the crossbowmen began their volleys. The short, stubby quarrels flashed across the open space and fetched down more of the enemy cavalry. Slowly, reluctantly, they began to fall back to reform. In the rear, I could see the bulk of Landau’s army, and at its centre was the Count’s standard. They began to move forward.
*****
Albrecht joined me again at the centre, and together we awaited Landau’s advance. This time it was a steady rolling forward of his entire strength. There seemed to be no reserves.
“He’s risking all on one last throw of the dice!” said Albrecht.
“Aye,” I replied, “and there’ll be no turning them back at the stream this time. Huw,” I called to him, “Go down quickly, and tell Master Ashurst to withdraw his archers and crossbowmen to here on the heights. They can shoot from here over the heads of the front lines.”
“Very good, Sir John!” he said, and slid off his horse. I watched him as he ran down between the ranks of the men-at-arms and spearmen, carrying my message. Only a lad, I thought, scarce older than I was when I went into my first battle. Would he survive the day? Perhaps. It would rest on his own bravery and agility, besides any skill with arms. Moments later I saw him speaking to Giles, who raised his bow to me, and the word was passed down the line.
As usual, there was some coarse banter between the retreating bowmen and the others, as they hurried back towards me. Before long, however, they were in position ranged in front of Albrecht and myself, busily making their preparation for the next stage of the battle. From the stock in his arrow case, each man took several shafts and stuck them point-first in the earth beside him within handy reach, and nocked yet another to the string. Then they waited, talking quietly to each other. Once an archer myself, I knew their though
ts then.
Again I took up my watch on the field before me. Landau and his men had reached the stream and crossed it—but with some break in their lines. They sought to regain the line, but lost the original rhythm of their advance. It was time to strike again. Giles also knew this, and was looking towards me. I drew and raised my sword on high, then swept it down in a flashing arc.
Once again the song of bowstring and fleeting arrow was heard, but this time there was no break in the tune. Scores of men and horses went down to ruin. Their comrades pushed on over them, on foot or still on horseback, and closed with our front line, where the cruel spear butts jammed firmly into the earth were held against them. Horse after horse carried its rider skittering along the line, to go down wounded, dying, or dead. It was now hand-to-hand with sword, mace, or shortened lance. The lines swayed back and forth, the clang of metal was deafening: sword on sword, mace on armour, lance on flesh. Men shouted in triumph, screamed in agony, or cursed as they died. The sounds and smells of battle rose around me.
On our left flank, Jack and his horsemen were embroiled in their own battle with the men of von Felsingen and Harzmann. The Almains were giving back against Jack’s furious assault, as he was keen to avenge Werner’s sneering remarks about his peasant birth. I realised that there lay my chance to turn the conflict our way.
“Albrecht, I’m taking my reserve to weigh in with Jack. Together we can drive Werner from the field.”
He drew his sword. “I’ll try my luck on our right, but we will have to skirt the marshy ground, so will take a little longer.”
My own company gathered about me, and we rode like demons to join Jack. Marco and Huw were on either side of me. We picked our way through the edge of the trees and reformed on the other side, thus outflanking Jack’s small battle. With flailing sword and mace we crashed into the side of von Felsingen’s Almains. They crumpled like reeds, and despite angry shouts from Werner they broke away and began to ride from the field. I was confronted by the raging figure of Werner von Felsingen, bloodied sword in hand, a battered shield on his left arm.
“So, John Hawkwood!” he gasped. “This is the end of this battle. Fear not; we shall meet again. You have killed my dear friend Conrad, and that I shall never forgive! The day is yours, as far as I care now.” He turned and rode after his fleeing men.
As for us, we swept on, killing as we went, and crashed into the flank of Landau’s main battle. Albrecht’s men were coming in from the right, and we were rewarded by the sight of a sizeable contingent of the Count’s Hungarians and the remaining Cuman horse archers leaving the field. More and more of the Count’s men flung down their arms and sued for mercy. I met Albrecht in the midst of the carnage. His face was grim, but I saw that much of his old fire had returned. Mayhap the effects of his bad night visions were wearing off in the light of our victory.
“Another bloody day, but another victory for the White Company, my friend,” he said, stripping off his gauntlet and holding out his hand to me. I took his hand in mine, and so that solemn handshake signalled the end of the battle for us both.
One other matter remained. As we stood by on our horses, an Almain squire from Landau’s guard approached us under a flag of truce. He was accompanied by another, bearing a standard. Speaking German, he addressed himself to Albrecht in this wise:
“My beloved master, the illustrious Count Conrad von Landau, has fallen upon this field of battle. Therefore the victory is yours. We seek permission to bear him and other noble dead from the field, for decent burial at another place. If you would claim his standard as a trophy of war, it is yours.” As he said this, tears streamed down the battle-weary soldier’s face.
“What is your name?” said Albrecht, leaning down and placing a hand on the man’s shoulder.
“I am Lutz von Landau, the Count’s son,” he said proudly.
“Very well then, Lutz,” said Albrecht. “Take the standard with you, to wrap about your father’s body when you bury him. He was a brave and noble opponent. No one shall say that we of the White Company are aught but chivalrous to the dead. God save you, and farewell.”
As the late Count’s son and his comrade trudged back to the place where lay their dead leader, Albrecht looked across at me. “A bold and noble youth,” he said. “We shall have to beware of him in the future.”
We both turned our horses away from the field to ride up to the heights again. As we left, the larks were singing their joyful song of Spring.
Chapter 13
Canturino
In later years, the action at which we defeated and killed Conrad von Landau would become known as the Battle at the Bridge of Canturino, but in truth I saw no bridge over that stream which proved such an obstacle to our enemy on that day. With the collapse of his military forces, Bernabo Visconti’s campaign against Montferrato ceased, and for a spell the good Marquis could rely on a period of peace.
The final departure of Werner von Felsingen from the White Company was something I welcomed. Albrecht however, I knew, still felt deeply bereft of his former principal marshal. He promoted von Auerbach to the position, but was never really at ease with him—mainly, I think, because Hannes was older than himself.
In the battle the Company lost about two hundred men killed, in addition to those whom von Felsingen had lured away to the side of the Visconti, who were almost all Almains. We were left then with some three and a half thousand men of all sorts, both as to nation and place on the field of battle. Added to these were the crossbowmen of Genoa.
In the aftermath of the battle the men roamed the field, gathering whatever of value they could find, and burying our dead where they had fallen. Von Landau’s men had ridden away and left their own dead. It would be for the country people to bury them, and if they reaped any reward in the way of money or goods, then I wished them luck of it. For Albrecht and myself, the problem was to secure employment for the Company once we had recovered and regrouped.
“Was Conrad Harzmann’s body found?” Albrecht asked me, as we ate our evening meal in my quarters on the evening after the battle.
“No. I asked Jack and the others to make a thorough search, but no sign of him was found,” I said. “It may be that Werner knew where he fell, and had the body taken away when they fled the field.”
“I wonder if we shall see Werner ever again,” said Albrecht, seeming to me to regret his going.
“Would you wish to?” I asked, somewhat taken aback. “I’d only welcome him at the point of my sword. Great God in Heaven, Albrecht, he was a caitiff and a traitor, who would have happily handed us over to Bernabo Visconti in exchange for gold. No, we are well rid of him, and that pale, sly fox who was ever at his side whispering God knows what evil in his ear.”
“ I suppose you to be right, Jack,” Albrecht said morosely. “But I have a feeling that we have not seen the last of him. Remember, there are other companies of my fellow countrymen here in Italy, who would perhaps welcome Werner and his followers.”
“They might, but they’d be fools if they did,” I said. “Have some more wine and forget Werner von Felsingen. We have weightier matters to think about. Do not forget, either, that I am sworn to return to Savignone and take the Lady Proserpina to wife.”
Albrecht stroked his neatly bearded chin, an old habit with him when considering what he should say on any serious subject. He looked across the table at me, a small smile on his lips.
“So, you are still resolved on this alliance, this adventure of the heart?” he said at last. “And after the ceremonies, the banquets, and the whole business of the nuptials, what then? Will your Lady follow you into the field, and ride at your side as did the Amazons of ancient legend?”
“Now you are foolish, Albrecht,” I said. “I will have none of it. Proserpina is a highly spirited young lady, but she will not join me on campaign. My wife-to-be has property of her own, and will take up residence there, where she will be mistress in her own house. That will be a resort of peace for me, when not o
n campaign. In time, I hope, there will be sons and daughters to come after us. You know well that I have a daughter, Antiocha, who still lives in England, although her mother is dead of the plague. A bastard child she may be, but she remains my daughter—and someday I shall see her again in England, or perhaps I shall bring her here to Italy. No more of this nonsense, I pray, or I shall grow angry.”
He shrugged his shoulders, sighed as if giving me best on the subject, and poured wine for both of us. He raised his cup.
“Very well, Jack. I drink to your Lady and to yourself. May your marriage be long, happy and fruitful. Zum Wohl!” He tossed down the wine in one mouthful, and rose to his feet. “I shall see you in the morning, when we must begin the return to Romagnano.”
“I thank you for your good wishes, old friend, for myself and my Lady.” I swallowed the contents of my own cup, and thus we parted that night, I think in no small degree of cool unfriendliness, but I cared not.
*****
We returned to our principal camp at Romagnano, riding through the gates on a fine Spring day, to the welcoming shouts of the reserves who had been left as a garrison. Riders had been sent on ahead of us, and there was already a festive air amongst the men. Extra wine and food rations had been made available, and Albrecht and I had agreed to hold a grand banquet in the open during the evening.
Before any such festivities, however, every man was required to appear before his company’s constable and show himself as having in his possession a full complement of weapons and armour associated with his rank and place on the field of battle. Each man also had to satisfy the Horsemaster or his deputies of his horse’s wellbeing and equipment.
As for myself, I retired to my pavilion in the company of Jack Onsloe, John Brise, and some others of my staff, including Marco and Huw. Seating myself at the head of the table, I gratefully accepted the cup of wine which Huw placed in front of me. He was swiftly followed by the cook’s lads, who in addition to wine brought nuts, fruit and sweetmeats to the table. Before long, a merry mood spread through the assembly.