Man at arms, p.1
Man at Arms, page 1
Man at Arms
The Battle of Poitiers
Book 2 in the Sir John Hawkwood Series
By
Griff Hosker
Published by Sword Books Ltd 2020
Copyright ©Griff Hosker First Edition
The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
Cover by Design for Writers
Real People Used in The Book
King Edward Plantagenet
Prince Edward of Wales and Duke of Cornwall- his son
Lord Henry Plantagenet- Earl of Derby, later Earl of Lancaster and Duke of Lancaster
Ralph, Earl of Stafford
Earl Ralph Neville
John de Vere, Earl of Oxford
Robert Ufford, Earl of Suffolk
William Montague, Earl of Salisbury
Thomas Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick
Henry de Percy, Earl of Northumberland
Thomas Hatfield, Bishop of Durham
Jean de Grailly, the Captal de Buch, a Gascon lord
King Charles of Navarre
King John II of France
Crown Prince Charles, the Dauphin of France
Philip, Duc d’Orleans
Arnoud d’Audrehem. Marshal of France
John de Clermont, Marshal of France
Gautier de Brienne, Constable of France
Prologue
Southampton 1348
I am John Hawkwood, a warrior and I live for war! I was born to be a warrior and I did not begin to feel as though I was alive until I went to war and learned that I had skills. They were not just the skills of being able to fight and win. It was not just that I was a good archer, it was more than that. It was as though my mind wanted me to war when there was battle. It did not matter what the size of the conflict was; so long as there was war then I was happy.
That explained why I was not happy for there was no war. With the two men who followed me, Robin and Michael, we had returned to England from Calais rich and well provided for but winter in England meant no war. Worse, we had heard of pestilence or Great Death in Italy and southern France which was spreading north and that meant the constant wars across the Channel had ceased. The Great Mortality as some called the plague was coming to France and the rumours which came from those who fled north were that there was no cure for this curse and whole towns and villages were filled with the dead. There is only so much time a man can spend whoring and drinking. It was when I almost killed a man in a bar brawl in the inn, The Infanta of Castile, that I decided we should leave the city and seek adventure elsewhere. If we stayed there then I might die to a knife in the night or be hanged for murder and, in my bones, I knew I was destined for more than that.
Durham 1348
Chapter 1
When we left Calais after successfully capturing it for the King and his son, we headed for Southampton even though Dover was closer. Basil of Tarsus held money for me and Balin of Bitterne was the weaponsmith we used and each of us wished to have mail and plate. Even Robin wished for a short hauberk. We stayed in the Infanta of Castile and there we had parted from the others who had been part of my company. All were loyal men, but I could not promise them employment. Ned and Jack returned to the inn in London that they used, and the rest went to their homes. Michael and Robin were the exceptions.
Robin Goodfellow was the one man I might call a close friend although even he did not truly know me. His name was a nickname for he was like Puck and able to vanish from sight and reappear at will. I knew his real name was Robin of Wakefield, but none ever called him that. He was the shortest archer I had employed but one of the best. Michael was the boy we had found, beaten and emaciated. He had attached himself to our company and, whilst not an archer, had skills with weapons and in the time he had been with us he had become a swordsman. He had mail, helmet and shield as well as to good swords.
After the landlord of the Infanta of Castile told us we were no longer welcome we packed our war gear on our horses and left Southampton. The road from Southampton led north and we headed away from the sea to, I knew not where. There was no war and we needed somewhere to winter. We had the whole of England to choose and I wondered where the best place would be to winter. Essex was out of the question for I might meet my father and there would be blood if that happened. London was a cesspit and to be avoided. Where else could we go? I spoke them aloud but both Robin and Michael knew that they were my decisions. When we had left Calais, they had made it quite clear that they were happy to follow me and be my men.
The road was quiet and we rode close together. My words were both for their ears and for myself, “I always wanted land of my own but that means we would be beholden to some lord or other. There are some men I would choose to obey but others…”
Robin nodded, “The King and the Prince, his son, have promised you rewards, perhaps, like Sir John Chandos you will win a knighthood.”
“Robin, a King will promise anything when there is war. Then warriors like us have a value. When there is peace, we become an inconvenience. No, we need to find somewhere quiet. I care not for the value of the land I buy for I am no farmer. I just wish a hall where we can gather warriors such as ourselves. I want a company of men that I can lead in war.”
This had been an idea which had been fermenting in my head for some time. Increasingly the system of lords bringing men to war had failed. Lords used scutage to avoid risking their own lives and Prince Edward had started to hire men at arms and archers, paying them with the scutage paid to him by his lords. That was why I knew that Robin was wrong. Prince Edward and his father needed us not tied to a land but available to him. I would make my own company, but it would not just be of archers. Archers alone could not win battles; they could decide them but in the end, it was men at arms who would capture the enemy leaders and take the ransoms. At Calais, I had used my sword as much as my bow. I needed men who could fight with swords and pole weapons. I saw myself leading a self-contained company of men who could attack with all the skill of the English archer but, at the same time, defend themselves from the archers’ worst enemy, the horseman.
“Hartburn, Captain.”
I turned to Michael. Taking him on had been one of the best decisions I had ever made. He was quick thinking and thoughtful. The two were often contradictory. His words seemed unconnected with my musings, “Hartburn?”
“You have chests of gold there and Captain Philip would make us welcome. Hartburn is not subject to the King for it is in the Palatinate and the Bishop of Durham rules. Captain Philip may know of land and it will be cheaper to buy there than closer to London. Do you want a home or just a property, Captain?”
“You are right that we would be welcomed but the Bishop of Durham is subject to the King’s command. However, you understand me well. I see this as somewhere to sit out the peace until war comes again.” We rode in silence for a mile or more while I mulled over Michael’s suggestion. It was a good one and I could find no fault in it. “You have picked the longest journey for us and with the weather like it is then it will not be pleasant.”
Robin said cheerfully, “We are warriors, Captain, the hard road is always ours. Let us embrace it while we may. We are young men but one day we will tire of the life and wish a comfortable woman and a family around us.”
I shook my head. “Perhaps but that is many years hence!”
The roads of England could be a dangerous place for there were many brigands and robbers but the three of us were so well armed and skilled with weapons that I feared no robber. Of course, we did not court danger. We rode only during daylight and we either used inns and taverns when we could or paid to stay in religious houses. Although quieter places than inns they offered the best food for that was how most of them remained open. It was at some of these houses that we heard more about the disease which was heading for England and its symptoms. Some of the monks had spoken to those who had travelled from Gascony and further south. That they were worried made me glad that we were heading north away from the disease. The seas around the coast would stop it.
We crossed the River Tees at Piercebridge rather than Stockton. I preferred bridges to ferries. We stayed in a tavern on the north side of the river. It was there we gathered information. We already knew the names of some of the important families: the Nevilles, the de Vescy family and of course, the Percy family who had led the army which had destroyed the Scots at Neville’s Cross. What we learned was that all was far from harmonious. The three families would combine to fight the Scots but were not averse to raiding and fighting each other. The most valuable piece of information concerned the Bishop of Durham himself. Thomas Hatfield was a warrior bishop and had fought alongside us at Crécy. He had been in a different division, but we had both been involved in that most important of battles. He had not fought at Neville’s Cross, but I hoped he would remember my name. Michael’s choice of destination might prove to be fortuitous.
We reached Hartburn in the middle of the afternoon. I saw that Captain Philip had made improvements to his h all. There was now a good stone wall which surrounded it and the gatehouse was substantial with a fighting platform across the top. The gate was open but it was low enough to necessitate us walking through the gate rather than riding. His wife, Mathilde and his young son, John, came out of the door as our horses clattered on the cobbled yard. She recognised me immediately, “John, John Hawkwood!”
“I hope that our arrival is not an inconvenience?”
She laughed, “Philip will be delighted to see you. He and the men are ploughing the east field. Put your horses in the stable and then get in out of this cold wind.”
The last time we had been here, more than a year ago, the stable had only been large enough for a couple of horses. Now I saw that there were stalls for eight horses. We did not presume to expect to stay in the hall and we left our gear in the hayloft of the stable. When we knocked on the door it was opened by an older woman.
“I am Gammer Anne, the housekeeper. Wipe your feet and hang your cloaks from the hooks.” Her voice told me she would brook no argument.
She had not been here the last time we had visited, and she was a formidable woman. We came to know that she had a heart of gold and was devoted to Captain Philip, his wife, and his son. Her husband had been killed at the Battle of Neville’s Cross. In fact, when the Captain told us of him, I remembered seeing him as he was killed. The fire was warming, and Mathilde had arranged the chairs so that all of us could face the fire. John had grown but he was still shy, and he hid behind his mother.
Captain Philip burst into the room, “My men said they had seen riders approaching! It is good to see you again!”
I stood and clasped his arm, “I said to your wife that we did not wish to make life difficult for you. We can sleep in the stable.”
Mathilde shook her head, “You will do no such thing! We have plenty of rooms and it is thanks to you that we have them. My husband used the money you left for him wisely and we have spare bed chambers.”
I was relieved, “Good.”
“And I must hear all about Calais and your life.”
I found myself envying the captain of archers. We lived either in camps or in inns. This cosy hall made the three of us feel at ease! I told him of the taking of Calais and my plan to become a leader of a company of men of my own. “I have more money, but I need somewhere to train them.”
He cocked an eye at me, “But you are from Essex and this is the north. Would you not have found more men further south?”
I nodded, “I have men already that are trained, Ned, Luke, Alan of the Woods, Walter of Barnsley and Jack but they are archers. Michael here will be the first I train to protect archers. I saw the need for that at Crécy. We protected the nobles but there was no one to protect us. You, of all people, should know that we are not considered in battle. If we lose our lives, there are plenty more to take our place.”
“But the King has no need of men at this time.”
I nodded, “But there are men in France, Italy, Flanders, Spain, in fact just across the Channel and they would be happy to pay for English warriors. We have a good reputation.”
He shook his head, “But you are an Englishman! How can you fight for another king?”
“I will not fight against England but there are many other leaders and I,” I spread my arm, “we, fight for gold!”
“I can see that you have thought this through.” He smiled, “Did you visit with a fortune teller before you came north this time?”
I shook my head, “I am a Christian and do not believe in fortune-tellers.”
He laughed, “There is not a soldier alive who does not believe in luck!” He pointed to the northeast, “There is a farm there, The Ox Bridge House, and old Cedric who was the landowner, died not long before you came here to battle for the Archbishop. It is still without an owner. In truth, it is not a profitable farm. It is on the slopes of the narrow valley. It is the next farm to mine but as different from my manor as a knight to a villein with a billhook. If you were to make an offer, then the Bishop might consider it. If, as you say, you wish just land where you can train men then it would do but I still cannot see why you wish to choose men from here and not further south.”
“This is the border and men are used to fighting here. I could have chosen the Welsh borders, but I knew you lived here and besides, we can take a ship to Flanders from one of the ports which are close to here.”
“Then ride to Durham and speak with Bishop Hatfield. It would be good to have a neighbour again.”
For the rest of the evening, the others all spoke more than I did. I was planning my strategy. I know not where it came from but ever since I had gone to war, I had used my mind to plan how to win. This was peace but I wanted to win. I would pay as little as possible for the farm for when I had no more use for it then I would sell it or, perhaps, make a gift of it to Captain Philip. We rode to Durham the next day. I had plenty of money withme and whatever I spent I had four times as much with Basil of Tarsus.
The city of Durham was like the court of King Edward. There was intrigue as well as plots. Nobles plotted to undermine each other and gain favour from the Bishop. Good land was much sought after and if a knight could take a rich manor from another then he would do so. I had risen early and spoken at great length to Captain Philip. I had discovered as much as I could about the land. It seemed to me that its greatest asset was that it controlled the bridge over the Lustrum Beck. While the waterway could be forded it was the only place for animals and wagons to cross. I intended to use that to my advantage.
I left my two men with the animals and approached the priest who either allowed or denied men permission to speak with the Bishop. I had a plan.
He looked up at me, he was small, and I saw his eyes taking in my status. There were no spurs and therefore I was unworthy of consideration. “Yes? I am Canon Adrian, and I am the one who determines which visitors are allowed to meet with the Bishop,” the sneer in the cleric's voice told me what he thought of me.
“I fought alongside Bishop Hatfield at Crécy and I thought to speak with him for I wish to live in the Palatinate.”
“Many men wish that, and you need a better reason than that to be granted an audience.”
I nodded, “Did I need a better reason when I led the archers of Hartburn at Bear Park and we defeated the Scots? As I recall the only churchmen who fought that day came from York.”
He coloured and I realised that I had touched a sensitive subject. “And the Church is grateful for that but...”
I took out my purse and opening it, took out a gold mark, “And my visit will bring profit for both the Church and the Bishop.”
The greedy man’s eyes widened, “Then I shall see what we can do. Brother Nicholas, take this man to the Bishop.
The young man who had been standing within earshot nodded, and said, “If you would like to follow me, sir.”
Canon Adrian held out his hand and I smiled, “When I have spoken to the Bishop, he may well choose to reward you but that will be his decision.”
I saw the hint of a smile on the young monk’s face. The Canon must have regularly used the ploy to line his own purse. As I was taken into his presence I recognised the Bishop and realised that he looked to be a warrior and not a priest, despite his robes. I still saw him from the battlefield wearing a helmet, mail and plate. He was seated at a throne and there was a line of petitioners. I joined the rear of the long line. I did not mind having to wait as it allowed me the opportunity of seeing who else sought favours. The faces that glanced at me dismissed me as soon as they spied me. I was not a knight and so how could I be important. The two overweight merchants also managed to look down their noses at me. I did not mind their contempt. I looked at the weapons of the knights and their livery. They were more important.
The line did not take long to move. Some of those waiting merely had the opportunity to say one sentence and they were answered and left. A clerk made a note of the conversation however brief. More than half of those who were seen did not look happy. When my turn came the Bishop looked up and appraised me from my feet to my face. My archer’s dagger was in the top of my buskin. His eyes met mine, “An archer?”
