Hugh Godefroy was not welcoming.
‘You’re saying as His Maj has paid for these gunne engines himself? Don’t see anything on m’ books. And m’ Lord Mortimer not being told? Don’t like it. Not at all, I don’t.’
He glared at Daw as if he was the bringer of hideous complications into his life.
‘Not exactly paid … yet. He wants to see them in action first.’
‘Action? You tell me how I’m meant to provide for your gunnes when I haven’t had a smell o’ one in m’ life!’
‘Be easy, Master Armourer, all is well,’ Daw soothed. ‘Jared Barnwell brings all requisites with him and his gunnes – including the gunners to serve them. All we have to do is hear King Edward and obey his wishes in their employing.’
‘We? We? Who are you then, as thinks to take the field with us? Hey?’
There was no earthly chance that he was going to miss the spectacle of his father’s gunnes in battle and Godefroy would be the one to furnish a way.
He gave a bleak smile. ‘Very well, I’ll take my leave. I can see you know gunnes well enough to please the King in his contest with the Scots. You have a supply of devil’s dust to hand? A stonemason would be a worthy addition to your numbers, I believe. And as to spares, does your blacksmith know enough to—’
‘Hold, Master Daw – you can’t leave me on m’ own with them gunnes. Why don’t you stay along with us, keep me company, like? Those as are present at a battle gets their chop o’ the plunder, like.’
‘Well …’
‘We has a tent, mess at the common pot an’ all, ale on me?’
The rain eased and stopped.
The vast encampment slowly livened but at the same time rumours circulated that the great summoning had all been in vain. In the face of such a formidable host the Scottish raiders had disappeared, probably to prudently withdraw back across the borders having done their worst. It looked likely therefore that this mighty army must soon be dissolved.
‘Won’t please His Maj, not at all!’ rumbled Godefroy.
‘Why not? It’ll save him a mountain of coin,’ Daw said. The sheer impossibility of trying to figure the cost of just feeding his thousands two meals every day was out of normal comprehension.
‘Ah! See, Edward wants he should win in a bloodsome fight, show he’s a man and can get out from under Lord Mortimer. But Mortimer ain’t keen on a Scottish war, he wants to get back where he is with Isabella, a-spending his treasure as hard as he can.’
Daw gave a weak acknowledgement. Would his father finally arrive in York to find everyone had gone home?