Hawkwood

Home > Other > Hawkwood > Page 22
Hawkwood Page 22

by Jack Ludlow


  ‘They tried to engage your service, Hawkwood, did they not?’

  ‘Most assiduously.’

  ‘I take it by that reply you are as yet not committed.’

  ‘The weather is improving, so I must decide soon.’

  ‘And Avignon?’

  ‘I am no longer in their service.’

  ‘Not what the last messenger from Gregory told me.’

  ‘I have it in writing if you wish to examine it.’

  That got a sly smile from Thornbury. Hawkwood had been waving the termination document for months. Avignon denied ever writing it, which left only two conclusions: they were lying or the document had been forged by Hawkwood for his own purposes. For what reason if it was the latter? It had to be better terms.

  ‘Thornbury, you know as well as I do that there are moves afoot to form an anti-papal league.’

  ‘If I were to say that my network of spies pales beside yours it would be nothing but the truth.’

  That was acknowledged with a nod as Sampson, Hawkwood’s new page, saw to the pewter goblets. The host lifted his to his lips, but sniffed the spiced steam before drinking. Hawkwood paid for information in a way that no other could match bar the Pope himself and his came free from his adherents and officials. With the garnered information the leader of the White Company knew where to lead men next for greatest advantage.

  ‘Say this league is formed, Hawkwood, how long do you think it will hold?’

  ‘The papacy is much hated, nearly as much as we are ourselves.’

  The reply was mordant. ‘The city states hate us so much they are ever seeking to employ us. Let us put aside such peculiarities and talk of winners and losers.’

  ‘If you wish,’ Hawkwood replied, taking a slow sip, for the brew was hot enough to scorch a lip.

  ‘Those who know Gregory talk of his determination. He is not a ditherer like Urban and he sees the many errors of his predecessor. That any attempts to seek accommodation with the likes of Florence and Perugia are wasted. I will not even mention Milan. If he is urged on by others, his cardinals, the Pope is said to require little pushing. He is determined to assert the authority of the papacy in Italy and if that has to be bloody his mind is so set it will not trouble his conscience.’

  ‘And you have been sent to tell me this?’

  ‘It was thought that one of your own would make the case better than a divine.’

  ‘Then they guessed right. Is there anyone less to be trusted than a priest?’

  ‘My view is that any anti-papal league will not hold. Those who propose it hate each other and have spent the last twenty years hiring us to fight their battles. Pay no heed to their blabbing about liberty, all they seek is to embroil their neighbours so deeply against Gregory that they will be weakened enough to fall. They will change sides as soon as it is seen to be advantageous to do so.’

  Hawkwood leant forward, smiled and spoke softly. ‘What a sorry crew we serve, Thornbury. The offer?’

  ‘You seem sure I have one.’

  ‘Come, friend, you would not have travelled as far as you have without one, but let us save your blushes. I have a little bird that tells me the Pope is willing to pay thirty thousand florins a month for the services of the White Company, is that true?’

  ‘Why do I think I have been played for a dupe?’

  The response was expansive. ‘Come, if we are not bosom companions, still we are not enemies. If I were to say that I was in two minds and you have settled me on a course would that assuage your pride?’

  ‘If I thought you were truly doubtful and that you have come down on the side I suggest, yes.’

  ‘Then have another goblet of wine to seal a bond.’

  ‘You will contract to the Pope?’

  ‘I will, upon my honour.’

  ‘And Florence, I mean your pension?’

  ‘They will pay for fear of what failure will bring down on their heads if they do not.’

  ‘Then I am empowered to say to you that Perugia is the most feverish location for anti-papal feeling and yet the Church rules. It must be contained and it would please His Holiness if you were to proceed there.’

  ‘To subdue them once more? I am accused of shedding much of their blood.’

  ‘No, they have not yet rebelled, but to ensure they do not a garrison will be imposed upon them.’

  Sir John Hawkwood had been instructed by more than one divine, but never had he met one as high-handed as Gérard du Puy. A Benedictine abbot and nephew to Pope Gregory, the man employed wondered if he spoke to him in the manner in which he addressed everyone, which was to treat them as if they were shit upon his shoes. He had more titles than most of the Perugians could count on their fingers but the most paradoxical was his designation of Vicar for the Preservation of the General Peace; no one was less suited to that than he.

  Arrogance emanated from him and was evident in his decrees, which were draconian. Any assembly of more than three was banned, chains were used to shut off the city streets at night to prevent clandestine gatherings and after sunset he held the keys to the city gates so as to control unrest even if none was evident. He and his coterie of French clerics occupied a fortress and palace on the city heights, ordinary citizens being barred from entry and leading ones admitted only by permission.

  Not satisfied with the citadel overlooking the city he had another one constructed, in order to overawe the citizens, whom he despised. To ensure minimum contact he built a covered walkway by which he could progress from his palace to the duomo without having to soil his thinking and deliberation with exchange; he wanted only to commune with his own and those few grovellers of the local population who would unquestionably do his bidding. The fate of any willing to dispute with him was to be thrown out of the city and barred from re-entry.

  Not content with a mercenary garrison, de Puy had brought in from elsewhere to guard his now twin citadels all the very best tools of defence that modern ingenuity could devise. That extended to its construction, with towers from the top of which he could employ arrow fire. There were two types of trebuchet being built to fashion his arsenal – the large for firing heavy enough stones to smash masonry, the smaller to let off showers of pebbles that at the speed they flew could be deadly – but only the smaller ones had reached completion.

  Everything, including the extravagance in which he and his cohorts lived, had to be paid for by the population of Perugia and its outlying dependencies. That was before they were charged to provide what could be considered a normal stipend sent regularly to their Holy Father and his extractions and expenditures were so large even Avignon was inclined to question them.

  If du Puy was conceited he was not in poor company: such a trait existed within every one of his officials, whose imperiousness matched that of their master and all were French. Whatever excess was committed did not result in redress when brought to du Puy’s attention: they behaved as would conquerors, not the custodians they were supposed to be. Nothing demonstrated this more than when a local married woman, to avoid being raped by one of du Puy’s nephews newly come from France, threw herself to her death out of a high window. No punishment ensued, indeed the complaint was dismissed with sarcasm.

  ‘The French are not all eunuchs,’ du Puy thundered, ‘even if you dogs would have it so. We are men and lusty with it.’

  The same nephew must have felt he had licence to behave in any manner he desired. Having kidnapped and raped the wife of one of the citizens, he was not reprimanded; he was ordered to return her to her husband, but not for fifty days in which he could do as he pleased. John Hawkwood observed these goings on with a jaundiced eye; he had never had much time for priests and in du Puy he had met what seemed an exemplar of all their worst habits encompassed in a set of vestments. He was being paid to keep the peace and his mere presence seemed to be sufficient to secure that; he had no need to act outside that responsibility.

  Setting up his own place of command in the lower town he had little need to
commune with the Abbot of Marmoutier and his sybaritic circle. His contact was with the military governor, Gómez Albornoz, nephew of the late cardinal, which had the virtue of sparing him from too much of du Puy’s unbearable condescension that always brought him close to felling the arrogant abbot with a blow.

  Then came the unrest in Città di Castelli. Informed of this by Christopher Gold, Hawkwood waited to see how Gómez Albornoz, or more precisely Gérard du Puy wanted to react. Minor flare-ups had been commonplace in the surrounding conurbations, hardly surprising given the way the Vicar of the General Peace bore down on those under his thumb with taxes and confiscations. Normally they died down of their own volition: people rioting, once they have looted, normally tire and quickly run out of the desire to continue.

  ‘Which has not happened this time,’ Albornoz informed him. ‘It has continued for days and, it is sad to reflect, is seemingly aimed not at a lack of privileges or a hatred of assessments but squarely at the Church.’

  The temptation to say ‘hardly a surprise’ had to be held back.

  ‘Abbot du Puy feels that an example must be made for once. The local papal garrison and the city priests have been thrown out of the gates and roughly handled too. It is felt a show of real force must ensue.’

  ‘How many?’

  There was no need to explain; Hawkwood wanted to know what Gómez Albornoz thought in regards to numbers.

  ‘Half your company, I suggest, will more than suffice.’

  ‘To subdue a herd of peasants?’

  ‘A herd of rebellious peasants armed with the tools of their needs. The abbot is clear. Those recalcitrant must be seen to be swinging from the bell tower. Let the people of the region know what comes of cursing and manhandling their priests.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Christopher Gold, as constable, was left in command of the remainder of Hawkwood’s men. For several days nothing seemed to change but with Hawkwood now some four leagues distant and half the White Company gone, the citizens of Perugia seized the opportunity to back the rebellion at Città di Castelli. A tyrant can impose all sorts of strictures on an assembly, but put-upon citizens will always find a way to circumvent such restrictions and the Perugians were no different.

  Having met in secret and determined on revolt when the circumstances were propitious, as they were now, they emerged from their houses on an inky-dark winter night, armed with whatever they could find to employ as a weapon and took over the streets. There was no panic in the citadels. Apart from his own guards, Gérard du Puy had the residue of Hawkwood’s company led by Gold, plus a small body of Breton mercenaries under a Gascon knight famed for his barbarity called Bertrand de la Salle.

  Albornoz was instructed to restore order by whatever means necessary and thus Hawkwood’s men were called out to fulfil their bond and they, along with the other armed contingents, assembled in the main square at first light under the military governor’s command. From where they were mustered they could hear the yells and screaming imprecations of the mob, all of which were aimed at filthy thieving priests and an immoral papacy, which had Albornoz construct a barricade of waggons to keep them at bay, which could be pushed aside as easily as it could be defended.

  ‘The task is to take back the streets, which should not be difficult. Once these fools see your weapons they will melt away.’

  His confidence in his pronouncement was dented when Christopher Gold asked Albornoz, who was not a military man, how long it would take to get a fast rider to John Hawkwood and seek instructions of what his men should do in this situation.

  ‘You are his constable, you command under me and I tell you what is needed.’

  ‘Even if that were true – and Sir John would never agree to it – I would not order the men I lead to take part in the suppression of this revolt on the command of a man who has never fought a battle, never mind suppressed an uprising.’

  ‘You refuse to obey me?’ came the angry reply.

  ‘It means fighting in the streets and alleyways of the city and for that we are not suited. The enemy could include the whole population of Perugia – twenty thousand souls – and be made up of women as well as men, given the way they have been treated.’

  ‘A little high spirits, no more.’

  Gold waved a hand towards the noise. ‘That is the response to your high spirits.’

  ‘Low pigs.’

  ‘Which we lack the numbers to easily contain. Too many of those you wish to set amongst them will die. A mob is like lava from a volcano and as hard to control. It goes where it wills and the people of Perugia know their byways better than we, which means men being attacked from behind as well as the front by threats that cannot be seen. If, however, Sir John wills it, we will comply.’

  ‘It will require force just to get out of this square, Gold. Have you not noticed that we are cut off from the gates? So your notion of sending a rider to Città di Castelli requires that first we retake one, and even then it could be tomorrow before we get a response.’

  That statement was met by a determined look; Gold was not to be moved and it was not from any overt instruction from his leader, it was more a feeling that he knew how Hawkwood would react. The killing of Perugians would not concern him; he had done enough of that in the past. It was the continuation of the rule of the city by Gérard du Puy, for on many a night over food and wine Hawkwood had deplored his excesses and stated that the Pope should remove him, even if he was his own brother. Tellingly, if the White Company was not going to move, neither was Bertrand de la Salle and his Bretons, though he kept his reasons to himself.

  ‘Word will get out, never fear,’ was the only opinion the Gascon advanced.

  ‘And until then?’ Albornoz demanded.

  ‘Best we stay here in the square,’ Gold said. ‘Perhaps this turmoil will wear itself out.’

  Albornoz would have reacted in an angrier way had not the very same instruction come from the citadel via the du Puy nephew, a smirking popinjay who seemed glad his rapist actions might have set the whole insurrection in motion. The forces in the square were to hold their place. The abbot had seen such spontaneous uprisings before and they had never had the force to keep the flame alight. Soon the protestors would tire and then it would be time for retribution. The ringleaders would be ferreted out and a bloody example made with burnings at the stake as well as crucifixions.

  If it was measured in sound, matters were far from settling. The noise was increasing and what had appeared to be hundreds screaming about greedy priests now seemed to number several thousands. The depth of the problem was brought home when those the Perugians would call traitors, du Puy’s grovellers, came to say the whole city was alight with fervour. Albornoz finally realised the entire population was up in arms, men and women, threating to cut to pieces anyone who came near their knives, scythes and sharp artisans’ tools. Gold had been right: to venture into the streets and alleyways was to invite disaster.

  ‘Yet we cannot stay here, surely?’ Albornoz put forward, now asking questions instead of issuing orders.

  ‘The citadel is easy to defend and well stocked with provisions.’

  ‘Withdraw?’ The notion clearly shocked him

  ‘Better that than perish here. Those waggons can be moved by peasants as well as soldiers and they will be as soon as it is dark.’

  If there was no panic there was relief; the men of the White Company tended to be long-serving and they knew what they might face in seeking to clear a mob: the only way was to kill anything that moved without seeking to discover if they were friend or foe and it could not be done without serious loss.

  Every deep doorway could conceal a knife, each arch leading to a courtyard with its fountain would hide dozens of men waiting to emerge in the mood to slay. In the narrower alleys it could be one armed soldier against a person blind with fury. None doubted they would be in such a mood for they too had seen the treatment meted out to them by du Puy and his French acolytes.

  Slowly,
half the men withdrew into the tunnels that held up the overhead walkway, the rest doing likewise above. The route for both led to the twin fortresses Perugia now possessed: the one built by du Puy and the old citadel, which had stood for a hundred years, both joined by a wooden walkway. There was no safety to be had in holding the outer fortifications so everyone was soon in one of the two forts, able to see the walkway by which they could support each other first emitting smoke, then bursting into flames. Within a glass of sand, it had collapsed.

  An attempt to drive back the insurgents led by Christopher Gold – he was acting for reasons of security – using one of the tunnels found the exit blocked by a wall of stones. But those who built the dry stone construct had left gaps through which to fire arrows of a primitive kind, but dangerous nevertheless, forcing him to pull back to safety only to find that was going to be in short supply.

  The artisan expert employed by du Puy to construct his engines of war had been seeking to complete his work outside the walls of the city. Approached by the rebellious, he was not fool enough to deny those machines as well as his knowledge about their use to the insurgents or to fail to offer his expertise. He would have been torn apart had he done so.

  If they had been built to defend the walls there was nothing to stop the Perugians from breaking them down and dragging the parts inside and up the hill, even if it took hundreds of hands. The biggest problem was the heavy counterweights that made the catapults so effective, this being solved by rolling them on logs, though it was hard toil. Once reassembled the trebuchets were put to immediate use, peppering the fortress with huge boulders and the interior with smaller rocks fired high enough to surmount the ramparts.

  Two smaller trebuchets had been built previously and put in place, one in each fortress. So the citizens found their own missiles being returned to them with interest. Their location at the top of the central hill of Perugia increased the range and the houses in the lower town suffered badly, as did any citizens caught in the open when they were fired. Days went by and it was obvious to both sides that the locals could no more overcome the defences than the defenders could essay out and drive them off.

 

‹ Prev