by Jack Ludlow
Hawkwood knew what would sink that and break their mood: the sign of a siege that was about to be pressed home to the death. And if he was impatient that his towers would be built in good time, he knew that that commodity was on his side. But that turned quickly to dust.
‘It is nothing less than treachery.’
Handsome Andrew Beaumont did not even blush. ‘We work for reward, John.’
‘You would take money from our enemies?’
‘Are they enemies? Florence promises to reward us for our support and it does not affect my soul to accept their offer.’
‘Pisa has paid you.’
‘I have that too. The total exceeds what Pisa would eventually grant us.’
‘Sterz?’
‘Thinks as I do, and that goes for most.’
‘Tell me, Andrew, who took the lead in this? Was it the Florentines who approached you, or did one of your number contact them?’
‘To tell the truth, John, I have no idea. But it makes sense to Florence. They know they cannot beat us, especially after what you did to their army at Incisa, and I believe they were told of your future plans. What better way to protect their city than to pay us to defend it?’
‘This smacks of Sterz and his anger at being replaced, Beaumont.’
That got a sly smile. ‘Am I no longer Andrew?’
‘No, you are not. You are to me a mangy dog, and if that offends you enough, let us exit this pavilion and put my words to the test.’
‘Why would I do that, John, when I know how well you can fight?’
‘Perhaps for royal pride.’
‘Ah, that,’ was the reply to what was sure sarcasm, followed by raised eyebrows and an expression hinting at confused wonder. ‘Such a thing may exist on one side of the blanket, John, but blood honour does not play on the obverse.’
‘If an agreement has not been struck, and I do not see how it could be, when will it come to pass?’
‘When the contracts are drawn up and the first payment is made. From that moment we cease to act for Pisa and become engaged by Florence.’
‘You came to tell me when you could have kept it secret. Why?’
‘It was felt you should have a chance to join with us.’
‘Under Albert Sterz as captain general?’
‘I did think that as a fellow Englishman you should be offered the chance to become part of our new Company of the Star.’
‘Does Sterz know you have come to tell me of this?’
For the first time the Beaumont face displayed irritation. ‘What do you think?’
‘You can depart now. Please ask Robert Knowles, as you pass his tent, if he will join me.’
‘I say goodbye, John, not farewell. I hope I do not encounter you on a field of battle, for I might—’
He got no further. Hawkwood cut right across him. ‘Be obliged to forfeit your perfidious life!’
The White Company was split asunder. It was not just whole brigades changing sides: each man in the host was free to make a decision for himself, which made it impossible to continue the siege. With his own contingent – they had at least, apart from a handful, remained loyal – and in the company of Robert Knowles who had lost a third of his men and John Thornbury with even less, Hawkwood led the Pisan levies back to their home city, sending ahead a fast courier to warn his paymasters of possible treachery within their own ranks, he having picked up a whisper that part of the Florentine plan was to provoke an uprising in Pisa itself against the revenues being ‘wasted’ on a mercenary army.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
To sit in Pisa and do nothing was not an option. The mood of the city was gloomy and far from supportive, which was bound to affect the men who had remained loyal to him and perhaps lead to further desertions. That was made more pressing once information came to him that the Florentines had not only appointed a highly competent general to command their forces, a lord from Ancona called Galeotto Malatesta, but that the enemies he now faced, Sterz and Beaumont included, had been reinforced by the same body of German mercenaries he had encountered at Incisa.
The task was to avoid what had occurred previously from being reversed, this while he had limited time to act to dent Florentine confidence. A general call to arms went out and even scraping the Pisan barrel Hawkwood was now seriously lacking in numbers, with less than a thousand cavalry added to four thousand mostly untrained levies.
‘I caught them unawares once, Robert; the trick is to do so again.’ Sensing his words begged a question, Hawkwood continued, ‘I know it is a risk to seek to repeat Incisa, but perhaps they will think that impossible and therein lies opportunity.’
‘The same tactic will scarce work.’
‘Then we must contrive something new.’
Hawkwood was not much given to relying on luck only to find he was in receipt of some. It was scarcely believable that Malatesta, just like Farnese, had put out no protective cavalry screen to warn of a Pisan approach, though he had set up camp on the far side of the bridge. This told Hawkwood that in the new general’s estimation, he was in no position to do anything other than wait for him to attack and effect a siege. Surreptitious reconnaissance found the enemy host camped once more on the banks of the Arno at Incisa, seemingly in no hurry to cover the ground between.
‘If they are reluctant to move, let us give them a nose that bleeds.’
Looking around the faces of those he would rely on to carry out his orders Hawkwood sensed doubt and was obliged himself to admit it was bound to be thus. The consideration that he might explain to them the alternative, which was to wait behind their own walls for what was inevitable, he put aside. It would not raise their morale but perhaps induce more caution than he needed; fail in this endeavour and they would leave Pisa without defence.
Overnight, as usual unable to sleep before a fight, Hawkwood begged that the heavens should cloud over. It might be cool now with a clear sky but in the daytime the August temperature would soar. With what he had planned heat must play upon the strength of his army, especially his cavalry. They were going to be obliged to abandon their horses and try to get to the enemy on foot. To ride down upon them at this time of year would be impossible with the parched state of the ground; it would create a dust cloud visible for miles.
Knowles and Thornbury apart, he had no one to talk to that would ease his concerns. As a precaution he had left behind in Pisa the likes of Alard, Ivor and very reluctantly Christopher Gold. Their task was to guard the house he had been given and more importantly the coffers in the cellar containing the money he had accumulated, including the huge sums gained from the Battle at Incisa. The situation in the city was too febrile to leave it unprotected. Added to that, if he was captured there lay the means by which he could be ransomed.
The grey light brought the customary stirrings until Mass was said. Then on foot, with the waggons containing their equipment and food as well as the very necessary supplies of wine to whet throats bound to become parched, the men marched east. Hawkwood spread them out widely to reduce dust from shuffling feet and stopped often to let them drink and the dust they did create settle.
The river naturally lying in a valley, he was able to get to the top of the hill that framed the western side without being observed, something which he had barely thought possible. Below him, it seemed that half the Florentine army were naked and in the water noisily swimming about, some jumping off the stone arched bridge to splash into the water. They were cooling off on what was now a broiling day, while behind them their camp seemed to lay in somnolent silence with few stirring, again due to the heat.
The far riverbank and bridge by which they would cross the Arno was littered with clothing and weapons so now for the attacking captain general it was a calculation of how quickly his men could descend to the riverbank set against the time it would take for his enemies to get out of the water and to the weapons they needed to fight.
‘String your bows.’
The order was passed from man to
man along the reverse side of the hill. Hawkwood’s archers dropped back several paces in obedience so they would not be observed. Marshals, Pisan and mercenary, were sent along the extended line to give the captain general’s command as Hawkwood himself strung a bow. His arrow, fired high, would mark the line at which his archers should stop and fire three quick salvos into the river. Then they were to join with the rest of the host, coming up at the run to their rear.
The object was the bridge. If it could be taken quickly then the Pisan host would hold a position that would nullify Malatesta’s numerical advantage. Should things go even better then the attack could continue into the encampment, hopefully sowing the kind of panic that had ensued previously, to set the enemy running in fear of their lives. But another command had to be obeyed and it was paramount that it should be.
With no river to their rear, the Florentines would be able to regroup. Advance yes, but listen for the horn that tells you to halt, for the next task will be to hold that bridge and to do so dispositions would have to be made in limited time to formulate a credible defence.
No one had worn a helmet on the way here; to do so was to fry your own head and it was uncomfortable to don even the padded cap now – metal was worse – the leaders especially, for their helms were already hot, heavy and decorated. That applied even more to the likes of Sir Murdoch Calvine and his confrères, the heavy chain mail they wore making matters near intolerable.
‘Worse than Palestine,’ was the opinion of one knight who had been on crusade.
Looking left and right Hawkwood made sure all was ready. Every man had been given wine to drink so dust-coated throats were now clear. Then he sensed something that cheered him, an eagerness to be at their enemies brought on by the fact that what was coming their way would be a complete surprise. With deliberate slowness, for effect, he drew his bow and with a telling pause to increase the tension he sent the single arrow on its way, quickly lost to sight against the azure sky.
The movement was immediate; the fighters were on their feet and crossing the crest in silence so that it would be the sight of them that set off the alarm not the sound. Yet several thousand feet cannot move in silence. They sent a tremor through the earth and within seconds the cries from below told of panic at what they saw approaching. The archers had jogged to get abreast of Hawkwood’s marker and with practised ease they peppered the river, rewarded with the screams of many of the swimmers who became their victims.
Joined in one mass the Pisan host was running now, the slope aiding their pace, free to yell and help to discomfit those trying to get out of the water. Within the camp horns were blowing, and if they sounded panic-stricken they were in truth noisily summoning all to the defence. Just as the bridge seemed to be within their grasp, the Pisans were assailed by a weapon that had not been anticipated, especially in the numbers that appeared.
Florence, unbeknown to Hawkwood, had recruited a hundred Genoese crossbowmen and they had a discipline lacking in many of Malatesta’s men. The first quarrels fired put an immediate check on the forward rush, more with the Pisan levies than the mercenaries. Yet as they continued, separating from the less professional, they became a more concentrated target for the Genoese bolts. The distance to cover, by men who had already tramped a league and half to get to this riverbank, also was taking its toll.
Hawkwood had never ever wanted to take on crossbows in the open; they had a sight advantage in range and if they were less accurate than a longbow that meant little when firing at a mass of advancing bodies. Now they were not really progressing as they had been. No one was running, more were stumbling forward, with as many stopping completely either in confusion or to aid fallen comrades.
Worse, those who had been swimming were now armed, formed up and ready to cross the bridge and engage. A glance downriver showed hundreds of horsemen splashing through the river, using a shallow ford he did not know existed to get to the other bank, and it was obvious once they were across Hawkwood’s situation would become unsustainable. The horns blew the retreat and it was only because his motley host was prepared for it that such a command worked.
The mercenaries under Knowles and Thornbury obeyed quickly while maintaining some order as they fell back. The inexperienced Pisan levies only saw themselves being deserted and they panicked and ran. What should have been an orderly retreat quickly turned into a rout, which made it a blessing that those Florentine cavalry did not immediately choose to charge along the riverbank. Instead they continued straight on, which told Hawkwood they would soon have control of his waggons.
Their eagerness to gain that prize gave him the only chance he had to get away without total loss – that and the action of the anointed knights, twenty men under the command of Calvine, whose pride would not allow him to back away, this added to the fact that such heavily accoutred men had the least chance of escape. Forming a line close to the bridge, they presented a barrier that Malatesta’s men had to fight their way through to get at the fleeing mass and these stalwarts were not giving ground.
Great broadswords flashing in the sunlight produced founts of blood every time they met poorly protected flesh, while the press of Florentine bodies prevented the Genoese from felling them. Hawkwood, allowing himself a brief backwards glance, could not but admire their stand. This was the kind of knightly resistance that had held the line at Crécy and Poitiers but soon they would be up against their own kind and in numbers too hard to resist.
Within a blink he was running along with the remainder of his men passing their own waggons in a wide arc, now being looted by Florentines who could have let them be to pursue. This they would not, for the Pisan baggage would become an acquisition of their foot-bound comrades.
They were now streaming up to the hill crest and taking hundreds of prisoners, men wounded as well as those so struck with fear they could only stand and wait to be captured. That no further pursuit followed puzzled Hawkwood until he realised that Malatesta had no need to risk his army; Pisa was now at his mercy.
If it was the same sight from the walls as it had been outside Florence, it was observed from a very different perspective: besieged rather than besieging. There were the same activities: hung donkeys and dogs naming the Signoria, the leading citizens who ruled the Commonwealth of Pisa, including Hawkwood, Thornbury and Knowles, as less than excrement. The Florentines staged horse races below the walls to taunt the defenders, minted coins reversing the symbols and indulged in the same kind of revelry that the White Company had employed when besieging their city.
It was galling to see men with whom he had ridden and fought as part of that, while Sterz, Beaumont, Brise and Baldwin seemed to take extra delight in parading with a flying banner every time he appeared on the walls. Even Cunradus was happy to appear on a donkey, as if he wished to display humility in his monk’s habit, as well as contempt.
‘Yet, Signor Agnello, they are no more able to cross these ramparts if they are well manned than we were able to cross theirs. Less, for they will come up against the men I lead.’
‘Many of my fellow citizens find such a thing hard to believe and wish to seek terms.’
‘Florence looks strong, they have numbers, but it will take ten men to overcome one behind a city wall such as you possess. I can tell you that it is not a task that the men who deserted Pisa will willingly undertake. I am happy to speak to the mob if that will calm their fears.’
‘Words will not be enough to quell the discontent and the mob is of no account, even if their voices are loud.’
Hawkwood had to agree. It was no surprise that the majority of Pisans were furious with the way matters had developed but it was the leading citizens who counted. Having dispensed their money, what did they have except abject failure? Yet they were about to compound their situation in Hawkwood’s eyes by denying the only men who could mount a defence of their walls the due amount of pay they were entitled to as per the agreed contract.
The men of the Signoria, who should have handed over the
instalment, were too fearful for their lives to do so, sure their irate citizens would string them up from the quayside cranes. Hawkwood’s concern was that with no pay the men he led, even in his own brigade, would desert to Sterz, who could no doubt extract gold from Florence to reward them.
With the Signoria unwilling to move, Hawkwood had sought to engage Giovanni Agnello, acknowledged to be the richest man in Pisa, but because of that and his avaricious business methods also the most hated. Added to that he felt slighted: regardless of how many times he had stood to be part of the ruling clique he had always failed to get elected. Hawkwood, who had dealt with him for supplies and found him a hard man with whom to bargain, had in his negotiations been made privy to the man’s frustrations.
Naturally he saw himself as better fitted to lead than to follow and was at constant loggerheads with his peers, especially those able to command the vote decried by him as a useless talking shop when what the city needed was the kind of rule imposed by the Visconti: a single brain of the right ability was required and Agnello was convinced he had it.
It was also the case that should Pisa fall, with the huge filled coffers in his cellar he had the most to lose. The solution to both their problems was simple: a coup in which Agnello, who so hankered after supreme power, should have it handed to him by the Commonwealth’s captain general. That had been the purpose of bringing him to the ramparts, to underline the dangers and thus leave only one solution.
‘When?’ asked Agnello, a tremor in his voice, for there was risk in what was being proposed and Hawkwood doubted he was a brave man; he would be torn to shreds if it went awry. ‘It must be soon.’
‘This very night will serve. I will send my most trusted companions to bring you to the Palace of the Signoria. There you will find me waiting. As soon as you arrive my brigade will form up before the palace to protect both it and you. Once power has passed to you, my men will require the terms of the contract.’