by Jack Ludlow
Not that the former were idle; it was an indication of the disrespect in which the papacy was held that a body of knights arrived under the flags of Florence and Siena to assist Perugia. Prior to that, a host of peasants had come in from the countryside with their hoes and shovels and were now busy digging a ditch around the forts so that mining under the walls would be possible. The question for the defenders was simple; where was Hawkwood?
On arrival at Città di Castelli, he had found that what he had been told was not strictly true; the small papal garrison of some sixty men had not been thrown out of the city, they had been slaughtered and the fate of the bishop and his priests was unknown. Leading only half his company and ever cautious, retaking the town from outside looked hazardous and that was rendered more so when the inhabitants came out en masse to drive him off, wielding the weapons that they had taken from the dead.
If he was able to check them and force them to retire it was at the cost of several of his men and that left him outside walls he lacked the strength to overcome, even if they were in poor repair. He tried patience, camping within sight for a few days, uncomfortable in winter, but that only brought him news of the Perugian revolt and how it had evolved. That was an even harder nut to crack than the one he now faced.
Seeking reinforcements he made for the papal stronghold of Viterbo only to find that in bloody revolt as well, with the mercenaries he had hoped to engage having fled. His honour required he attempt a recapture; his honour cost him even more losses, including an old friend, and he was now outside any place of succour in the midst of winter. There was no choice but to return to Perugia and see what could be achieved, in the meantime sending for his fellow captains, the likes of John Thornbury, to bring their brigades to that place.
The Perugians were not fools enough to think there would be no attempt to subdue them. Almost their first act, once they had received the contingents from Florence and Siena, was to destroy the bridge across the Tiber and that was what Hawkwood found when he came within sight of the city. In full winter flood it was unfordable and far from easy to cross by boat.
‘Well, we must make camp here on this far bank,’ was all he could say.
‘It may not be my place to say so, Sir John, but we are very short on provender.’
Hawkwood looked at his squire, Salmon, young and reminiscent of Christopher Gold at the same age. ‘Never fear to remind me, lad, but I know as well as you we have a dearth.’
‘Am I allowed to ask what the plan is?’
‘So you can pass it on?’
The smile took the sting out of the words as Salmon responded, ‘I do get asked of your thinking, sir.’
‘Which must leave you in a quandary, since I barely know of it myself.’
The nights were cold with a clear sky that promised a frost but, well wrapped up, Hawkwood went on what had become his usual walk through the tents and blazing fires, stopping to talk to people like Ivor and Alard, grey-haired now and bemoaning the loss of the long-time comrade Badger, who had fallen to a lance outside Viterbo.
‘His memory lives,’ Hawkwood reminded them.
‘Are we becoming too old for this?’ asked Ivor.
‘Been that for a time,’ was Alard’s response, ‘if my bones have the right of it. But I am damned if I can see another way of goin’ about things that won’t see me starve.’
‘Might happen right here,’ the Welshman responded in his sing-song voice.
Hawkwood was quick to jump on any gloom. ‘You make it sound as if we’re trapped.’
‘Ain’t we, John, or is it just those poor devils forced to arise and battle that bastard who has preyed on them these last two years?’
‘If it eases your mind, I dislike du Puy as much as you.’
‘Makes no odds, does it, when he holds the purse.’
‘Sleep, who knows what tomorrow will bring.’
‘No warmth, that’s fer certain.’
That melancholy remark sent Hawkwood wandering again and soon he found himself on the riverbank looking at the rushing waters of the Tiber, hard by the broken bridge. It was not far from this spot that he had slaughtered the Perugian forces and now he wondered if the citizens were about to exact revenge, for he was in a bind.
He could not attack and nor, with half his company inside, could he just depart, which for a mercenary was the wise thing to do. Staying whole long enough to earn the stipend meant more than rescuing a fool like Gérard du Puy. Racking his brain as he must he could not see a solution. Eventually he went to his pavilion and drawing his cot near to the brazier, set himself to sleep, though that did not come easily.
It amused Hawkwood that a papal messenger arrived the next morning, bearing with him a cardinal’s hat for Abbot Gérard du Puy. The fellow was invited to take a boat, cross the Tiber and seek to deliver it, an offer he was wise enough to refuse, even when Hawkwood pointed out he might be able to mediate. It was a comment that sparked a thought.
‘But who better to do that than I?’
If it was taken as a joke once the word spread, Hawkwood had not meant it as such. His first message was to find out to whom he could talk, the response showing that he was dealing with a better organised foe than he had supposed. The citizens had formed themselves into something like a properly constituted government, with a certain Francisco Molinari appointed as the podestà.
In truth that was a relief; it was always better to deal with one administrator than a dozen, as he had been obliged to do originally in Pisa. Not that Molinari saw him alone at the rendezvous by the San Giovanni gate. Stern of face, his original stance was to be brusque and rude. If he had hoped to upset Hawkwood, he had no idea of the man with whom he was dealing, a person who had a temper but knew how to control it.
His offer to mediate was first treated with derision, but Hawkwood was aware of certain facts that, once he established the precise positions of the opposing forces, allowed him to apply pressure to be heard. At the centre of that was the compelling article of food.
‘The granaries are within the old citadel, are they not?’
‘We do not require them.’
‘Signor Molinari, please remind yourself that I have resided in your city for some time. I know where the grain is and where there is none – for instance, anywhere else in the city bar a private family storeroom. We are in midwinter and there is nothing to alleviate that. The fields are now barren and not even planted. It will be six months at least before you can gather the means to feed your rebellion and hot tempers cool on empty bellies.’
He had struck a chord but Molinari was not going to give up easily. There was much airy waving of arms, many recitations of sins committed by the White Company, many of which were carried out by the less disciplined Bretons, though Hawkwood declined to point that out since it would serve no purpose. He knew the man would require time; he needed to talk to those who had put him in place, for he had not been appointed to replace a tyrant.
Two days of talks edged towards compromise. Hawkwood would have sacrificed the newly appointed cardinal but he dare not say so. It was his men he wanted, both unmolested and with their weapons, which he mentioned but not with the same degree of emphasis. The threat he issued, very subtly delivered, was, he knew, an empty one, but as long as the Perugians did not see it as such it could work. The idea that mercenary bands from all over the region would converge to crush the revolt was to Molinari a potent one. Such men would not stand by to see their confrères massacred.
The departure of the White and Breton contingents was agreed. Cardinal du Puy took longer but eventually that too was arranged. He must be allowed to leave with all of his entourage as well as his personal possessions. This required a full inventory of that which he owned set against the property of Perugia and led to a great amount of haggling, with Hawkwood in attendance to remind du Puy that his life was at stake and that certain baubles were worthless to a dead man.
‘I do not have to fight to get my men freed, but you! They w
ant to throw you to the mob and your nephew with his too free desires as well. The rest they will only hang.’
Disputes such as these are resolved by necessity; Perugia needed the granaries, Hawkwood was stern with du Puy and eventually matters were settled. The French papal party would leave the citadel on the first day of January. It was a cold and frosty morning that saw du Puy set out on a fine mount that Molinari had insisted belonged to the city – just another of those things that had been fought over.
Hawkwood had brought in twenty fully armed bannered knights to protect du Puy physically, but nothing could stop the citizens who packed the route to the city gate from letting him know their opinions with invective and spittle. At one point they closed in so hard he could hardly make forward progress, while his arrogant nephew was struck on the head with a club, producing a strong flow of blood but little sympathy.
The mules carrying du Puy’s possessions suddenly disappeared in the melee that followed, bringing forth a loud complaint that Hawkwood must do something, to which the reply came that he was more interested in keeping the abbot alive than compounding his thefts.
‘Keep moving, for if anyone gets their hands on you I cannot save you.’
It was unnecessary to say he might struggle to save himself if the mob went crazy. Behind them came the mercenaries, fully armed and looking determined. That caused the crowds to ease back; no one was fool enough to seek to rob them. Not without difficulty the whole assembly cleared the gates and could make their way north.
Half the White Company was on one side of the Tiber, the rest on the opposite bank so they kept going to the next crossing, hard by a Benedictine abbey, by which time an exhausted group of clerical Frenchmen were near to collapse from expended emotion and fear.
John Hawkwood had one task he needed to perform and that was to ask the newly elevated Cardinal du Puy how he intended to pay the latest instalment of the monies due to the White Company.
‘Are you stupid, Hawkwood, or is it you are blind? Did you not see me robbed of everything I possess and, I might add, do nothing to prevent it?’
‘Which does not obviate the debt.’
‘Well, I don’t have it so you must seek it elsewhere.’
‘Must I?’ Hawkwood replied with a laugh. ‘I don’t think so. I see payment sitting before me.’
‘What are you talking about, dolt?’
‘Your ransom, Cardinal du Puy. I count you now as my prisoner and will presently calculate how much I think your holy brother will pay to get you freed.’
‘You swine, you will rot in hell.’
There was no more laughter, not even a smile. ‘Talk to me like that again and I will hold you in a water-filled pit in the ground until I get my money.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The flame of revolt against the Church spread from Perugia like wildfire. Before spring arrived and eased the threat of famine nearly every part of the huge patrimony of St Peter’s, controlled from Avignon, had ejected those who had been set over them, both lay and ecclesiastical: cardinals, bishops, vicars and fortress captains, usually the relatives of high divines, many cruelly treated before expulsion. The Church lost control of over six hundred towns and cities in addition to the loss of over a thousand fortified outposts.
At the centre of this upheaval lay Florence, ever claiming to be independent of both Church and empire. Indeed any overlords whatsoever. It was to that city, happy to be the centre of dissent, that the messengers came bearing flags to tell of their new freedoms, of joyous uprisings, physical ejection and the tearing down of the fortresses their overlords had inhabited in order to keep their power.
The city on the Arno became feverish with what was possible and for once the body called the Eight Saints, men elected to the Signoria of Florence and who governed the city, had no trouble at all in raising funds in order to sustain their new-found liberties. The money was used to despatch armed bands to those towns and cities that required assistance, carrying the message that the revolt was not against the Church or God but the venal practices of hated officials.
Even rising against God’s Vicar on Earth the citizens in every liberated town still attended Mass, still prayed to the Holy Trinity and their favoured saints and vowed deep allegiance to their religion.
Perugia intended to destroy the citadel which du Puy had sought to defend, seen as a symbol of his tyranny. They had sent for experts in demolition to undertake the work. Yet the men who now ran the city also showed they had a conscience – or perhaps they did not want to be seen as anything like the newly elevated cardinal. The property taken from him as he made his way through that hissing crowd was returned.
Hawkwood now expected to receive his due monies, yet when the inventory was complete there was scarce sufficient in coin and valuables to keep the du Puy retinue in soup, while the cardinal himself maintained that this amounted to the totality of his possessions, which was of course not believed.
Had the men who stole it originally pocketed his money? Had du Puy hidden his money away or, in his depredations, taken care to send out of Perugia the profits of his extortions? Or had he, as he claimed, spent every penny that came his way on maintaining his rule, outside the funds owed to the Pope, which had naturally been passed on to Avignon?
‘We could go back and demand it,’ was the opinion of Constable Gold. ‘The way du Puy lived could not have been sustained on air.’
‘Recall we made a promise – you, I, Brise and de la Salle – not to trouble their lands for a period of six months.’
‘And we will hold to that.’ Gold got a look from Hawkwood then, one that sought to establish if the words spoken had been a question or a statement. Perhaps the nature of it helped form the next remark the younger man made, which was, ‘Of course we must.’
‘Or find that when we seek to exact money to promise inaction elsewhere, no one will believe it to be true.’
‘And what we are owed?’
‘The Pope will ransom his brother, he has no choice. I will demand one hundred and thirty thousand florins, which is a high price to pay for such a worthless specimen. But it is also the sum which is due to us as a payment for our services. In truth, Gregory will be getting his brother for free.’
Not wishing to travel with du Puy in tow, Hawkwood sent him under escort to Rimini and into the care of an old enemy, Galeotto Malatesta, who, for a percentage, would hold the cardinal until payment was made. The White Company, still technically in the employ of the papacy, now waited to see how Pope Gregory would react.
For once the Church of Rome was led by a pontiff of a decisive nature and one who was determined to recover the towns and cities he held to be his fiefs. Besides that he still had the power of his office; he was heir to St Peter and not one of the rebels was anything other than a member of his congregation.
The rulers of Florence were summoned to appear before him and they obeyed, doing so because their electors and citizens would not have it otherwise, pleading their case with useless eloquence. Excommunications followed as night follows day, the whole city being put under anathema. Worse for a trading society, all other Italian states were barred from engaging in business with this pariah and the manner in which that was rarely circumvented was testament to the power of religion.
Permission was given to seize Florentine assets and to enslave any citizen of the city resident elsewhere in the whole of Europe. This was too tempting for greedy entities that had happily accepted Florentine money to gain their liberty or so recently sent their flags to the city to join with that of the progenitor of the revolt. If effective, and it looked to be so, Florence would be ruined in a year.
Perugia received special attention as the ‘dog that had returned to lick its own vomit from the paving stones’. People were commanded that to sell food to a Perugian was to invite eternal damnation and there too the citizens could also be enslaved. Genoa and Pisa were placed under anathema for seeking to continue their profitable trade with Florence on which the
ir own prosperity depended.
For all the power the office of Pope gave Gregory, it did not return his displaced officials to their positions or bring in the revenues to which Avignon had grown accustomed. That would require force. As his agent to effect a reversal the Pope chose not a soldier – they could not be trusted to stay true – but Prince-Cardinal Robert of Geneva.
If many of his clerical peers were haughty – du Puy being an example – few could match Robert in his manner or his bloodline. He was a direct descendant of Louis VII of France, cousin to the Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV and brother of the Count of Geneva, both sons of the Count of Savoy. In his extended cousinage he straddled every royal house in Europe.
In his prime, Robert was a man certain of his destiny and sure that the glory of God was his to wield as he saw fit; anything he considered right was not to be gainsaid by those of lesser inheritance or intelligence, which in his mind encompassed everyone. Given unlimited licence to spend, his first act was to recruit from southern France eight thousand Breton mercenaries under Jean de Malestroit, a captain noted for his personal brutality, who led a set of mercenaries famed for despoliation and barbarity even among their own community.
Hawkwood was invited to join with them in what Robert saw as a crusade, with all that implied. Anyone who stood against them would be put to the sword and if they survived it would be in a landscape rendered unfit for human existence. No quarter would be given and nor would such a host expend a single florin in their progress. Italy must pay so Italy could once more be subjugated.
Assessing the nature of things put John Hawkwood in a quandary. Still owed a fortune by Avignon he was in a land in which the writ of the Church no longer ran. With that came the utter diminution of their revenues. Without the taxes levied how was he to be paid? Then there were the Bretons who were nothing like those under de la Salle, a small contingent over which he could exercise some control. With Malestroit he would be in the minority and both would be required to obey Robert of Geneva.