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 their 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.

Besides those concerns he had worries about the White Company. Long gone was the homogeneity with which they had arrived in Italy. Death from wounds or disease, added to a modicum of desertion, had taken its toll on the numbers. Then there were men leaving with permission, unable to still soldier through age, infirmity or just weariness. These had seriously weakened his English base so the company, through ongoing recruitment, was now made up of many nationalities, which meant the discipline of old on which he had relied was no longer strong.

In a raid that devastated the lands around Bologna – they too having evicted their cardinal-governor and were thus fair game to a papal army – he had encountered too many disputes over booty, including one in which two of his captains were wounded trying to mediate. Even worse, he came across another pair arguing over who should have the body of a young virgin nun, seen as a special trophy – nuns always were.

That she would be ravished was not in doubt, only who would be the perpetrator. That she would suffer was also not in doubt, physically certainly but her spiritual life would probably likewise be destroyed: once a captain was finished with her she would be handed over to their men. Fresh of face and terrified, she was standing, crucifix in hand, praying to God either to be spared or to die, even pleading with Hawkwood for the means to avoid her certain fate.

He argued long and hard but was unable to facilitate a compromise with two intransigent men on whom he knew he would have to depend in future. Hawkwood took out his knife, having kissed her forehead and invoked God, and drove it up and into her heart, despatching her to meet the maker she so clearly worshipped. The contesting pair witnessed a solution that seemed worthy of Solomon. What they did not see was Hawkwood’s personal confession and the misery and tears that went with it. That she died with her virginity intact and would surely enter paradise was not sufficient recompense.

Robert of Geneva had his host marching south from his imperial base, presenting such a threat to Pavia that Galeazzo Visconti let him through his lands unmolested, which alarmed a Florence that felt betrayed. If relations with Milan and Pavia had been far from cordial, the Visconti had always stood at the head of resistance to the Pope; now for the sake of their own skin they were prepared to allow the whole of Tuscany to suffer.

With no way to avoid the coming storm, Florence began to extract what it could from papal and ecclesiastical property. The many churches were stripped of anything of value, monasteries too, while what lands they owned were appropriated and sold to raise funds for defence.

Betrayal was likewise in the air; not all those who rebelled seemed sound and every city and town had an element within prepared to back the Church and open its gates to the coming invader. This was made more pressing by the news that Gregory had left Avignon and was returning to Rome, to use the power of his personal office to aid his armies in recovering papal possessions. Advised to make peace with Florence, Gregory responded that he would rather be flayed alive. There would be no compromise: either submit and suffer or stand and die.

 

‘This is not what I want, Christopher.’

Surveying his encampment, John Hawkwood saw unrest where he had once had order. More troubling was the fact that his presence, once enough to quell the most deep-seated dispute, no longer had the same effect. Indeed, he did not feel he was fully in control of the company and neither was his constable.

‘If you cannot make them mind you, Sir John,’ Gold admitted, ‘I am no substitute.’

‘This is perhaps the way of our trade and inevitable. How can we ask such ruffians to behave? What I would not give to have back the men I led at Pont-Saint-Esprit.’

Christopher Gold had rarely seen his leader cast down. Hawkwood had always had the ability to be positive even when the situation seemed dire, something that seemed to fire his imagination to create unique ways to win anything from battles to skirmishes, employing tactics that often bemused his own men, never mind his enemies.

‘But we must go on with what we have and join with Cardinal Robert and his Bretons. We will break camp in the morning and move to meet them at Cesena.’

One of the few towns to remain loyal to the Pope and situated north of Rimini, Cesena provided a perfect place for Robert to assemble his forces. Romagna was fertile and produced a famous crop of wine once praised by Pliny. The town also had a fortress set on the edge of a cliff which hung over the town dwellings, in which the prince-cardinal could be accommodated in the martial style to which he now aspired. His huge Breton host was encamped in the nearby, well-watered and rolling countryside.

Hawkwood, seeing that area as crowded and wishing to keep his men away from the bellicose Bretons – too great a proximity invited dispute and possibly serious bloodletting – chose to set up camp two leagues distant, in close enough proximity to his titular commander yet distant enough to work on re-imposing a sense of order in his company. Some men were deprived of their ranks, new marshals and corporals taking their place. It was hoped that in time, when they had bedded in, they would earn the respect necessary to exercise proper discipline.

The trouble that arose came almost as if it had been written as a biblical prophecy; a group of unruly Bretons sought a supply of meat in Cesena, but declined to pay for what they demanded. The butcher was unwilling to allow this and brandished his knives and cleavers to ensure no one took what they wanted. Raised voices attracted a crowd, all citizens of Cesena, who had quickly formed a deep detestation for the arrogance of these rogues from Brittany.

Perhaps if the mercenaries had not drawn their weapons it would have been resolved. But the threat of such violence had the locals running for their own arms, to reappear in numbers the Bretons could not hope to overcome. Pride precluded withdrawal and in the ensuing struggle the transgressors, who had demanded free meat, were slaughtered.

Suddenly the whole town was up in arms, with Robert of Geneva watching from the castle as his authority seemed to crumble away.

Once the call went out the remaining Bretons massed closer to the walls, while Hawkwood was summoned to bring the White Company to their support. Waiting outside he sent Gold in to find out what was happening, the news brought on his return heartening, for Hawkwood held that the Bretons, by their high-handed action, probably deserved their fate. If a papal army could only rely on two towns in the whole of north Italy, it made no sense to upset the citizens of one of them.

‘A delegation went to the prince-cardinal. They offered to put aside their weapons if he promised no retribution.’

‘And?’ Hawkwood enquired, gazing from a hilltop into a town that looked very peaceful with the lazily rising smoke of fires. ‘Has he agreed?’

‘He requires that they surrender their arms to him and provide fifty hostages as a token of their future behaviour. Given that, he granted that the Bretons must remain outside the town and that for trade the vendors will go to them. Added to that they must pay for anything they require.’

‘I never had him down for a peaceful solution. Somehow it does not suit the nature I have observed of either our leader or our Bretons.’

‘He was said to be all mercy and it shows sagacity. Robert has a bigger task ahead. Cesena barely matters.’

‘Muster the men, we will return to our camp. I sense nothing will happen to keep us here. You stay and follow when you are certain there is nothing to concern us.’

The White Company did not get far when an order arrived that they should turn back and take station outside the western gate to the town, Hawkwood to attend upon Robert immediately but discreetly.

‘Any notions of what he is about?’

‘None, Sir John, but I wonder if it will be as peaceful as you thought.’

Hawkwood took with him no more than a dozen of his own bodyguard. These were familiar faces all the way back to Brétigny and he felt comfortable in their presence. Given one side of the fort formed the outer defence of Cesena, sneaking in through a postern gate presented no difficulty. Soon he was in the presence of the prince-cardinal and what he observed was not the benign presence reported to him by Gold. This was a grandee in the throes of a spitting tantrum and he was demanding retribution.

‘The Pope’s army and they think they can take up arms against us at will? They must be taught a lesson and so must Italy. Let it be known far and wide what comes of challenging God’s will.’

Robert was in a rare passion; there was the smell of drink on his breath and to Hawkwood’s mind he had lost sight of reality. He was invoking the will of God when it was his pride that was wounded. He needed to calm down and consider how best to act.

‘My Lord, have the population not given in to your every demand? If it is not enough, tell me what is and I will go and ensure they meet your wishes.’

‘I want justice, Hawkwood!’

The prince-cardinal was so close, and so venomous was his shout that the Englishman had to use a hand to ward off his expectorated saliva, which was as well for he spat out more.

‘No! Blood and justice. Arrange your men outside the western gate and await my orders. Malestroit already has his waiting to get their revenge and he will enter north and south as soon as darkness falls.’

‘To frighten the recalcitrant?’

‘To chastise them! Let the world see what happens to a rebellious town. A demonic fate will fall upon their heads as it should and I shall pray for their souls to rot.’

‘If you let loose the Bretons on the city there will be a massacre.’

‘There will be divine retribution. Now do as I command.’

About to argue Hawkwood felt a tug at his sleeve, which was unobserved. Robert had turned away and was fulminating at his own retinue in a like manner to which he had harangued his mercenary general. A low voice with a strong Welsh accent whispered:

‘You will not change a mind like that, now will you? Best be far and decide what you will and will not do away from his gaze.’

Hawkwood spun on his heels and left, his mind racing, for he reckoned to have a good notion of what was likely to follow, knowing the Breton reputation and having seen what had happened when Prince Edward let loose his English–Gascon army on the French city of Limoges. That had been an exercise in terror, designed to cow any other municipality that in future thought to stand against him and it had been sickening. By the time he got back to his own lines Hawkwood had decided he wanted no part of what would likely come to Cesena – the level of punishment did not fit the perceived crime.

He made his opinion plain, but now the lack of discipline showed in all its devilish form. The word soon spread of what Robert of Geneva intended and it was obvious that a large number of his men were unwilling to leave the sack of Cesena and the loot that would accrue from it to the Bretons, news of this brought to his pavilion.

‘It pains me to say you will face outright mutiny,’ Gold advised him. ‘Stop those eager to take part and White Company could be no more.’

It was a reluctant commander who was obliged to let every man make his own choice, his only consolation being that he would not partake in what was inevitable. Hawkwood was left with only those around him who held to the previous loyalty. For the rest, they could not wait and once the horns had been sounded they rushed through the gates of Cesena to carry out the wishes of Robert of Geneva.

The slaughter lasted three days and, by the time exhaustion brought it to an end, there was not a living soul in Cesena and the surrounding villages outside those who had raped, pillaged and murdered men, women and children. Many they had also been tortured to find the hidden treasure they were sure existed. Sir John Hawkwood only entered the town when it was over, to kick hard the comatose and blood-soaked bodies of the men he led, drunk from butchery and wine so near insensible to the pain. The White Company must be brought back to its duty and if he felt disgust then that must be hidden.

Only a fear of disease afforded the unfortunates a burial, many bodies being dragged from the town moat and the nearby streams to be thrown into mass graves. If the Pope’s prince-cardinal wished to send a message to Italy he succeeded; the news of the annihilation of Cesena spread fast, but the effect was not all that he had hoped. The result was revulsion, not fear. If the Church had been despoiled in what was an interregnum it had still been left with much property and wealth. Enraged citizens all over Tuscany and Lombardy turned on what was left.

Christopher Gold often wondered if it was that disgust which turned Hawkwood against serving the Pope, though he was careful to keep his severance a mystery. All he ever got in response when he sought to find out was that Gregory had yet to pay the White Company. The dishonourable rogue had not even ransomed his own brother.