by Jack Ludlow
‘Then we must return and tell our confrères,’ was the response of a low-spirited Francis.
‘We as freebooters have the ability to move as we like,’ Hawkwood insisted. ‘I suggest you stay here in Avignon and seek to find any new route they may take. Once you have anything solid, come to us. Trust that we will find another way to intercept the treasure.’
‘You will not be staying in Pont-Saint-Esprit?’
‘I cannot see why we would but you will have little trouble locating us.’ It was unnecessary to say that all he had to do was follow the trail of destruction they would leave in whichever direction the company went. ‘Just as you did before.’
‘My horse and saddlery?’ di Valona enquired, not bothering to answer that point.
‘Can you get another?’ A slow contemplative nod but no explanation; no doubt his cardinal would oblige with either a mount and equipment, or the means to buy it. ‘Then we shall take it back with us and pick up all our own horses left, yours included, at the last hospice.’
The Italian looked skywards. ‘If you wish to get clear of Avignon before dark you should go now.’
There was a moment there when doubt hung in the air. Was this handsome young man with his dark-brown eyes and smooth olive skin too keen that they should depart? Would it be better to perhaps silence him rather than just hope he would still act in their common interest? It would have been good to discuss this with his fellow captain, but of course that was impossible.
Di Valona was standing before them and if he was asked to move away so they could talk there could only be one subject to discuss and he would be a fool not to work out what it was. In his place Hawkwood would take to his heels. When he turned to Francis the Belge prior to mounting he could see in his companion’s eyes the question on which he was pondering, a point raised not long after they moved and were out of earshot.
‘I cannot see that killing him would gain us much.’
‘I agree,’ Hawkwood concurred, ‘and there’s no point in dwelling on it. That is till we meet Sterz, who is bound to ask why we let him go.’
That got a rueful laugh. ‘Be prepared to be told you are a fool. I am.’
There was a temptation then to enquire as to his feelings regarding the German but it was quickly buried; they might be on better terms than previously but outright trust was likely to be unwise. Besides, having re-crossed the Pont Saint-Bénézet they were once more in the teeming and narrow streets of Avignon proper and that required concentration as well as an eye both on their purses and their saddlebags, no easy task when being constantly jostled.
They got out of the city before the gates were closed for the night, but not before Hawkwood had registered that there was a well-equipped and numerous garrison. If the number he saw at one place were replicated along the entire parapet, then the city was well defended, as it would need to be given the huge treasure that must be locked away in the vaults of the Papal Palace.
As the sun dipped he looked, by habit, back at the actual walls, noting they were formidable and in excellent repair. The vague notion he had been toying with, that there must be ten times as much wealth in Avignon as was being transported by those cardinals and it would be a fine prize to capture, had to be put aside in the face of reality. The place was too strong unless one had an army to invest it and that was one thing the Great Company was not.
‘But what a prize, Francis.’
CHAPTER NINE
If Albert Sterz had not always been a man John Hawkwood admired, even as he appreciated his gifts, he was obliged to do so after he delivered the bad news regarding the ransom money being almost certainly beyond their reach. If he was disappointed, and who would not be, the German hid it well, even managing to make it appear as if he had anticipated the outcome before immediately going on to advocate another way in which the Great Company could flourish.
‘We are in possession of a walled town on the edge of a prosperous region. The granaries are full and the supply of food from the countryside can sustain us, which means we have no need to plunder to eat. Under us is a population cowed but as yet not subject to what they have every right to expect. I say that presents an opportunity!’
Cunradus was a master of dissimulation, his smooth, round face rarely betraying the thoughts he was nurturing. Looking at him instead of Sterz, Hawkwood noted the slight flicker of amazement at what was being suggested; the man he normally advised had surprised his factotum as much as anyone else present.
‘Within a few days’ marching lies Avignon, dripping with wealth.’
‘As well as strong, well-manned walls, Captain General.’
Hawkwood mouthed this caveat in a soft voice. The suggestion Sterz had made, even if he had yet to work out the full ramifications, he found intriguing, but not enough to let the man get carried away: he had been to the papal city and knew of what he spoke, while the man who led the company had not.
‘If I say my assessment is shallow, only one great gate and a section of wall, I do not reckon it will alter much on greater examination.’
The way that was taken, immediate agreement, came as a second surprise.
‘Acknowledged, Hawkwood, and well said. Numerous as we are there can be no taking of cities like Avignon, but I speak more of their hinterlands. Between us and the defences you mention are many towns lacking walls that will pay us ransom to be spared or yield even more in the way of wealth if they refuse.’
Sterz paused to let his confrères mull on that, a smile edging his lips. There were those present who burnt and destroyed for pleasure as much as profit.
‘In addition, we hold one of the few bridges linking both sides of the Rhone and can set a charge to cross at whatever level we like. That will allow us to extract inducements if we think a traveller or goods to be of particular value.’
‘Are you saying we stay here, Sterz?’
The use of the surname and no title got Leofrick of Aachen a jaundiced look. In private it would have been acceptable. In such an assembly an acknowledgment of his superior position was reckoned to be politic, making the snapped reply more like the normal Sterz.
‘It would take a thick skull with poor content to need to ask the question. Certainly we can leave here and go on our way, but to where? Is there a part of France that will yield more than the Comtat Venaissin, full of abbeys, rich estates and on our doorstep? We can ride out from Pont-Saint-Esprit at our leisure, take that which we desire, then retire behind walls that will keep us safe even from an army.’
‘Walls, Captain General, that Hawkwood overcame only days past and with scarce a drop of blood spilt.’
Thornbury delivered those words in an even tone that eschewed dispute; it was no more than a reminder.
‘Then perhaps he is the man to ensure it does not happen again. Will you take that on, Sir John?’
The title, rarely if ever deployed without sarcasm, was pure flummery and Hawkwood took it as such: he also considered the possibility that Sterz was shifting the problem of security for the company from off his own shoulders. If the walls were overcome a second time it would not be his fault. Hawkwood could say he was flattered and decline, without loss of face, yet the plan Sterz was pushing to be accepted melded with many thoughts mulled over in the months since Brétigny.
The activities of the Great Company were wearing and ever on the edge of problems in the supply of food, shelter from inclement weather and even horses, for the endless movement bore down hard on the equines. Again his mind returned to that ambuscade, an indication that resistance was hardening against the routiers to the point where untrained peasants felt it better to fight and die than succumb.
If losses in fighting men were small in the article of death or wounds, they were greater in the area of desertion and disease. Some, tired of the life, breached their contracts to quit and probably go home, wherever that may be. They usually slipped away in small groups following on from the highly rewarding sack of a rich town or monastery, taking with them mo
re than their allotted share of the spoils.
Little could be done to prevent that, while in a company dedicated to seeking booty it would be hypocritical to protest; nor was it wise to detach others in pursuit, to thus weaken themselves even more. Not that they numbered less as a body, but being reinforced with village and townsfolk – youths eager for adventure – did not fill the gap.
They were not soldiers and it took time to turn them into even a semblance of one; in the meantime they could be as much a liability as an asset. The Great Company was yet formidable, but to John Hawkwood less so now set against its original strength and that would only get worse. So what was being put forward made sense; being static they could regain their previous power.
‘I can ensure that Pont-Saint-Esprit provides for us a safe haven, if that is the wish of the assembly.’ That got a rare smile from Sterz, not that it lasted long as Hawkwood continued, ‘Yet external threats are only one part of what we might face.’
‘Who can threaten us?’ demanded Baldwin of Gitschtal.
‘How many great fortresses have fallen due to treachery from within?’
‘If you doubt any one of us, Hawkwood,’ Leofrick of Aachen growled, easing a finger width of sword blade from its scabbard, ‘speak now so that matters can be settled.’
Given Sterz had already put Leofrick down with a telling insult, John Hawkwood was obliged to avoid doing likewise, even if it was justified. The man’s temperamental nature was no mystery; the puzzle lay in the fact that a fellow so stupid could be voted in as a captain by those he led. In the end it was John Thornbury who replied with what was obvious to everyone else.
‘I think you will find our comrade speaks of the citizens, Leofrick.’
It took time for that slow brain to make sense of that. The evidence that it eventually did so was in the hand coming off the hilt of his weapon and the blade being allowed to slip back into the leather.
‘So far we have visited upon them little harm,’ he hissed.
‘Which they can scarcely believe!’
Sterz was right to say that, but they had not remained entirely unmolested: old habits could not be entirely eliminated and not all captains had full control of their band. There had been instances of freebooters, men difficult to discipline by the very nature of their service, getting out of hand: stealing, inflicting beatings to those they thought had great wealth hidden and, of course, many rapes. Yet in terms of what the inhabitants of Pont-Saint-Esprit had anticipated it would appear slight.
‘I say we must have them support us, not wish us gone, and that requires vigilance from us all and the need to be harsh with our own to maintain the peace.’
The suggestion from Hawkwood was as radical in its way as that advanced by Sterz, this proved by the many incoherent questions that emerged: he was telling his fellow captains that they and their men must adopt a different way of behaving in pursuit of a more enticing goal, and be coerced if need be to do so.
‘As well as ensuring their ability to go about their business in peace, if what our captain general proposes is as profitable as he wishes then some of that should be shared with the leading citizens, namely those on whom we will depend to keep the town secure.’
‘We have the power to command that,’ insisted Baldwin.
‘If you believe that, Baldwin, then I happily yield the security of Pont-Saint-Esprit to you, or anyone else who shares your opinion.’
‘I cannot command you, Hawkwood,’ Sterz interjected, in a tone that indicated he wished he could. ‘But I agree with what you say and I now request you take on that responsibility.’
Cunradus was smiling and Hawkwood thought he might well do so. If he had been surprised as anyone else about that which was being proposed, his fertile mind had subjected the possibilities to shrewd examination. Sterz, by asking that question of Hawkwood had completely bypassed whether his proposal was accepted. He looked like a teacher proud of a star pupil.
‘I would not wish that my men be denied anything gifted to others.’
Cunradus spoke for the first time. ‘You may find profit for what will prove scant effort.’
Hawkwood naturally set up the centre of his operations in the Impious Bull. Sharing his quarters was the serving girl of mature years and a bold eye previously singled out. Named Aalis, and some twenty-four summers in age, she turned out to be a very warm bed mate indeed, grateful because she was relieved of the need to work for a man she detested.
Eudes the fat innkeeper had been obliged to dig up the gold he had sought to hide in his cellar and that now sat in a locked coffer under the Hawkwood bed, while a second chamber, likewise not paid for, acted as an office. It was not long before the owner came to realise he was suffering where others were not.
‘You are doing penance for past sins, Eudes.’
‘Have I not been penitent long enough, Eminence?’
‘No. Now fetch me some wine.’
That at least the man did not have to buy; gifts such as wine and food poured in from citizens seeking the goodwill of his tenant. Dividing the town into its various quarters and appointing men he could trust as a sort of watch, Hawkwood was able to receive complaints. Some required action and that he ensured was a responsibility shared: any penalties had to be agreed in council.
He also had Sterz free and reinstate the bishop, engaging that divine in keeping the peace, for there were villains in Pont-Saint-Esprit as capable of disturbing the peace as any freebooter. He was elderly and rather confused but to ensure clerical compliance the bishop was given a personal bodyguard led by Ivor the Axe, as much to prevent him entering into intrigue as to secure his person.
The walls were inspected and any weaknesses, cracked mortar or stones that had shifted from their seating were listed for repair, the necessary replacements brought in from a local quarry and the town’s artisans set to carry out the work. The clearing of the bushes that lined the riverside was paramount, backed up by the construction of two wooden palisades cutting off the strand to both fishing and nocturnal incursion, these patrolled in darkness by men from whichever band had come back from pillaging to take a rest.
Eager to line their purses, every captain kept his men in the field as long as it was possible to do so, Sterz included, rampaging through the papal possessions, sometimes up to the very walls of Avignon itself, there to hurl insults at the Pope and his cardinals. It was that which made possible the keeping of a sort of concord within, for there were transgressions and as a concomitant there had to be punishments, usually with stocks or a flogging, though two of Baldwin’s Burgundians had been hanged for the violation of a girl child.
Insults to the guarded walls of Avignon were mere sport; it was plunder they sought and the Comtat Venaissin yielded a great deal. Hawkwood had control of the bridge tolls and was shrewd when it came to assessing how much travellers would pay for passage. Added to that, monies, tithes and Peter’s pence meant for Avignon, which had been sent before Pont-Saint-Esprit fell into routier hands, never got beyond the town. The church vaults that once held the bishop were now a repository for a great deal of Pope Innocent’s income.
Messengers despatched by him or his officials were frequent in both directions, the Rhone crossing being a major route by which the papacy kept in touch with every diocese to the west and north and they paid heavily to traverse the river. The Hawkwood band had no need of compensation from their mobile confrères; their revenues, added to taxes from traffic through the town gates – every countryman heading to market had to pay – as well as a levy on trade within the town, which had been paid to Avignon previously for defence, was more than sufficient.
It was a happy man who found out his bed mate Aalis was with child, the news delighting both her and the putative father. She was put in the hands of a set of ladies who would care for her every need and if the notion of nuptials was never broached, it was a given that the child, once born, would become John Hawkwood’s charge. It would be a test of the bishop’s resolve, for if he
was still in Pont-Saint-Esprit it was intended the child should be baptised there, which made what followed interesting.
‘There is a papal delegation under a truce flag demanding he who commands the men here to come to attend to their presence.’
With Sterz absent Hawkwood knew that meant him, as did Gold who had brought the message. The boy had been given command of the tollbooth and it was good to see the responsibility had him grow in stature and confidence, though his mentor thought that might also have to do with his eager adoption of carnality; he had one of Eudes’ very young serving girls to share his bed and by the noises emanating for their chamber it was no soft and romantic meeting of young bodies: more furious, noisy and repetitive rutting.
‘They decline to pass through the toll to meet in Pont-Saint-Esprit, Sir John, to treat you as an equal. Should I send them packing?’
‘No doubt it would please you to do so.’
‘If you saw their garb you would want to strip them and send them naked back from where they came.’
‘Gorgeously attired?’
‘That does little justice to their magnificence. The leader is certainly a cardinal.’
There had been one such delegation before, clearly from Avignon, carrying an instruction from the Pope for the Great Company to quit Pont-Saint-Esprit forthwith at risk of damnation. Naturally it had been ignored. Next had come an offer of indulgences, a remission of confessed sins, and that too was brushed aside; Hawkwood was curious as to what message could come now.
‘It would be churlish not to meet with such an eminence.’
The papal party had stopped on the highest point of the bridge, still mounted, which indicated this was likely to be no parley. Hawkwood came to them on foot, a dozen of his men behind him for security, to look up at the leader, he of the red cardinal’s cap. Astride a beautiful white mount and wearing a cloak of heavy material edged with ermine, he had creased dark skin and heavily hooded eyes, this registered only in passing. He did not deign to speak himself; that was left to one of his minions.