Tuesday 16 August

The four rode as fast as Grandarse’s overburdened beast would allow, slowing as they approached clearings, searching the little hills and trees for any sign of sparkling armour or arrow-tips, and only edging out cautiously when they were as sure as they could be that it was safe to do so.

‘By my ballocks, Frip. This is turning into a longer hunt than Arthur’s for the Holy Grail,’ Grandarse said at the end of the first day.

They were sitting in a small stand of trees. The horses were haltered to a rope lashed between two trees, and they were resting their backs against their saddles, the two archers a little distance away from Grandarse and Berenger as they talked quietly, wrapped in their blankets and chewing at dry husks of bread that crackled and crunched between their teeth like snail shells. Berenger had lit a small fire, and now he fed it with dried twigs he had picked from some conifers. The lower branches were dead and gave off little smoke.

‘It’s a longer ride than I had anticipated,’ Berenger admitted. He sucked at a piece of bread stuck between his teeth meditatively. ‘I had hoped to be with them by now.’

‘We may have to give up if we don’t find them soon. The army will be preparing, and I don’t have time to be hunting for Hawkwood, damn his cods. I have four other vintaines of archers to command,’ Grandarse said apologetically.

‘I understand,’ Fripper said. He spoke dully, his eyes fixed on the fire. It was a lunatic chase. The old centener was quite correct. They had no chance of finding the company; they didn’t even know when the company had attacked the abbey, nor how long they had been travelling north.

From the look of the tracks the company had been hurrying, but there were plenty of people on foot. He had seen their boot prints. Not that this was any surprise. A King’s Messenger would travel the same distance in a day, whether he was on a horse or on foot. A horse would cover shorter distances more quickly, but then would need to rest before continuing. A man on foot could keep on all day.

The fire flared. Berenger looked away, his sight blinded, and then had a thought.

During the day, seeing a mass of men through trees was next to impossible, but it was just possible that he might be able to see the light from campfires in the distance. If he saw it, he would know that the company was not many miles distant.

He stood and strode quickly to the edge of their little stand of trees.

‘What is it, Frip?’

‘Just an idea. If there are a hundred men, they’ll have at least ten good-sized fires, won’t they? Unless they’ve found a village or hamlet to take for the night, and have all their fires indoors, they’ll make some light.’

He peered through the trees. There was nothing. The sky was clear of clouds, and there was no glow, while the landscape all the way through to where he thought the horizon lay was black. If there were a thousand men encamped out there, he had the feeling he would see nothing. The trees were so dense that even a bright fire would be concealed.

‘No,’ he said. ‘There’s . . .’

And that was when he saw it. There must be a tiny chink between the tree trunks there, so that when he looked he could just catch a glimpse of light. He thought it was like a star among the trees, and when he moved his head fractionally, the pin-prick disappeared again. It was only in this one place, with his head just so, that the tiny flickering spark was visible.

‘What is it, Frip?’

‘I’ve found them.’

They decided to rest for the most part of the night. The sun was still only an imaginary lightening on the far horizon when Berenger kicked dust over the remains of their fire, and they saddled and remounted. It must have been the last hour before dawn, Berenger reckoned. He was sluggish with cold, exhaustion, and most of all the lack of wine. They rode along an earthen track among the trees where the soil deadened the sound of their hoofs, and then into a broad, open area. Here they found a small stream into which their mounts enthusiastically dipped their heads, and Berenger dropped from his horse to fill their water skins. It was cold as cruelty, but refreshing nonetheless, and Berenger felt some of the urgent desire for wine begin to fall away from him again.

He remounted, and they continued. The fires of the company would be dead by now. Although Berenger had always tried to enforce a rule that fires should be covered and sentinels set about any encampment, the men had often moaned and complained when they thought they were in safe territory. Now, he hoped, their laxness would prove useful. He set his rounsey’s head in the direction where he thought he had seen the spark, and he and Grandarse made good time, walking briskly, keeping their eyes open for any rabbit holes or other dangers.

It was because he had his eyes fixed so firmly on the ground at his mount’s hoofs that he didn’t see the ambush until they were already caught.

‘Hello, Frip,’ a voice called. It was guttural and vaguely familiar, but Berenger was in no mood to analyse it. He whipped his sword out and turned to face the danger, knowing that he was already too late. Any men who had set up an ambush and waited this long would have their plan fixed firmly. He anticipated a stunning blow to his skull, or the sudden impact of a crossbow bolt, or a clothyard arrow to his breast.

He had not expected to see Fulk and Loys approaching, both grinning in delight.

‘So, what happened?’ Berenger said.

‘We were setting up more defences, but we were too late. The first of them came over the wall at full tilt,’ Loys said. ‘We had some men standing guard at the gatehouse, but their main attack came from the far side of the abbey, over the orchard and past the Abbot’s house. You know, where the butts were set up? We had little enough time to form a defence, and even then it was touch and go. The men with Hawkwood fought a good rearguard, but what can twenty do against more than a hundred, especially when the hundred are battle-hardened? Hawkwood managed to get to the stables, and some of his men rode off, while we and a few others did what we could. We killed a few.’

Remember that vicious little shit Sebastian?’ said Fulk. ‘From Will’s vintaine? Short man, squint, dark hair. He got to the Abbot before anyone could stop him. Denisot saw him stab Abbot Andry, and Denisot ran to him and punched him so hard, he almost flipped in a somersault.’

‘It was lucky Fulk was there,’ Loys added. ‘He got to Sebastian and killed him before the bastard could gut Denisot. He’s a tough little shit, that bailiff.’

‘I couldn’t let the bayle get himself killed for trying to help an abbot,’ Fulk said.

‘How did you all escape?’

Loys answered: ‘We went out the way they came in. It was impossible to get back through the main gate, so we ran for the woods, and watched as they trashed the place. They captured four or five of the lay-brothers, tortured them to learn where the abbey’s valuables were, then killed them. By then they were all on foot. John Hawkwood had been waiting for his moment, and he came back at the charge and knocked them away. He held Will and his men back while we took to our heels, and when we were safe, he trotted off after us. Will tried to have his men give chase, but they were having nothing to do with it. Instead, they took to looting everything. They grabbed everything they could, Frip. The gold, the wax, the wine, the lot. Just drank themselves stupid, robbed the place, then packed up and went.’

‘They will have been slowed by all the goods they stole.’

‘They are close by. Denisot and Hawkwood’s men are keeping an eye on them.’

‘How many are there?’

‘About ninety to a hundred. Not more, I don’t think. They have had some attrition.’

‘We don’t have enough, then.’

Grandarse rumbled, ‘If we surprise them, we might be able to . . .’

‘These are my men, Grandarse. I know them too well,’ Berenger said. ‘If we attack them, we may win a slight advantage for a while, but these are war-hardened men. They won’t collapse in terror because of a sudden attack. They’ll re-form and attack back. There are good archers in among them, and the rest are strong fighters with sword or axe.’

‘Aye, but a quick assault with some of these lads, and we’ll be through them like a stick through shit! We captured sixteen or so of them last week. That was how we learned where you were, remember.’

‘For what purpose? Can we capture them? No. Can we recover all the stolen wealth? No. Can we even free any of their prisoners? Unlikely. More likely is that they will get to hold us off, then attack again and kill every one of us. Like I said, these are professionals, every bit as competent as Walter Manny or Thomas Dagworth’s men. They know how to encircle and change their fortunes. I trained them.’

Fulk was nodding. ‘He’s right,’ he said in his deep voice. ‘I would not attack them with so few.’

‘Ach, if you say so,’ Grandarse said. ‘But it would be a glorious opportunity.’

‘An opportunity to die,’ Berenger said flatly. ‘But we will need more men if we are to succeed in rescuing their prisoners. Now, take me to Denisot.’

In the bushes, Denisot listened to the sounds of the night, while at his side Ethor lay on his belly. Usually at this time of year Denisot would expect to hear the odd owl, perhaps a wandering cat, the sleepy barking of a neighbour’s dog. Here, near the camp, all he could hear was whimpers and weeping from women and others in the camp. He strained his ears, trying to hear her voice. Gaillarde must be there, she had to be! She hadn’t been left in the town, he was sure. They wouldn’t have taken her to another house to rape and murder her. She would have been left in her own house. But someone had taken her with them. They had killed little Suzette and taken Gaillarde.

He looked up when the quiet hiss came from the trees behind them and nudged Ethor. The two crawled backwards from their protective bush, and made their way painstakingly over the grass to the trees. Not until they were five yards in among the trees did they feel safe enough to rise and stretch aching muscles.

‘That’s the camp?’ Berenger asked quietly.

‘Yes. You have brought men?’ Denisot asked. His voice was harsh with anger. ‘They have the women in there from our village. They have my wife . . .’

‘No. I’m sorry, but there are only a couple of men with me. Where is Hawkwood?’

‘Him? Over there,’ Denisot said, pointing to a second stand of thick undergrowth. ‘But you should have asked for help, for men to come and rescue our people! I thought you had brought companions to help us save the women! Still, we can do it! We can go now, surprise them. Perhaps we can save some of them.’

It was Ethor who shook his head. ‘No, Denisot. You saw the men on guard duty just as I did. They are all alert, not resting. There is no chance of surprise.’

Denisot shook his head. ‘Of course there is! We can knock down the sentries, then . . .’

‘You hope we may be able to break into the camp and rescue the prisoners, but you know that idea is doomed. The women are all held separately with the men, in ones and twos in rooms in an old convent. The men are inside, too, all gathered together. To get to them, we would have to race through all the sleeping routiers. Then we would have to release the women from any shackles or bonds holding them before trying to escape. In that time the entire camp would be awake, and it’s unlikely we could liberate any of the women before we were slaughtered. I don’t think a single woman could be rescued like that. More likely, the mercenaries would slay them as soon as the alarm was given.’

‘We have to leave,’ Berenger said. ‘We can go to our knight, Sir John, and bring him back. These fellows may listen to him and surrender their captives for a fee.’

‘Fee?’

‘A ransom. They will be happy enough to release the women for some money.’

‘What money?’ Denisot asked. His voice was louder than he intended and when Ethor put a hand on his shoulder, he nodded. ‘Yes, I know,’ he said more quietly. ‘We have no money, Master Fripper. All we had, they have stolen. What would you have us do, go and rob someone else to pay these thieves? Kill someone to pay these killers?’

Berenger looked towards the camp. ‘Perhaps there is another way, but there is nothing we can do without more men. We have to go to the English camp.’

‘You go, then. I will stay here and watch for my wife,’ Denisot said.

‘You don’t even know that she’s there,’ Berenger said. ‘She could have been slain and left in any one of a number of places between your town and here.’

‘These men do not bury their victims or hide them! They kill and leave the bodies where they lie! My wife is there. I am sure of it!’

‘If you remain here, you will be likely caught and killed yourself,’ Ethor said. ‘Denisot, go back with these men. I will stay and follow them.’

‘To what purpose?’ Berenger asked.

‘If they move from their path, I can show you where they have gone.’

Berenger shook his head. ‘My friend, if you think that the English army cannot see a swathe of destruction such as these men are leaving, you are blind. And if you were to come to the English camp and call out, you would be killed as a spy. If you were captured when the army came to you, you would be slain. None of you can remain. Denisot, staying here will mean your death. If you come with us there is a possibility that you can save her. If you don’t, there is none.’

Denisot turned and stared back towards the mercenaries’ camp.

‘I failed her before. She still blames me because I could do nothing to save our children. I could see it in her eyes: she held me responsible for their deaths. If I go now, I will be—’

‘Helping to rescue her,’ Grandarse said. He belched and hoicked up his belt. ‘Aye, well, we’ll be rescuing no one if we don’t get our arses back to the English camp soon. Best hurry.’

‘I will stay. I may be able to help her,’ Denisot said. He stared hard at Fripper. ‘I saved your life once. You owe me this. You should stay with me.’

‘I could not help you against so many,’ Berenger said. ‘You stay, but keep safe, and we shall bring back more men so that we can rescue your wife.’

‘You will come back? This you swear?’

‘Yes. I will return with men.’

Denisot nodded as though to himself while Berenger stood, waiting. Ethor shrugged and muttered, ‘Eh, bien.’

‘You are with me?’ Denisot said.

Ethor nodded and the two stood staring at each other. At last, with a heavy heart, Berenger muttered his farewell. ‘God watch you.’

Denisot said, ‘Godspeed.’ He looked at Ethor, and the two men turned and made their way quietly back to the edge of the trees. Berenger watched them disappear into the gloom.

He felt as though he was betraying Denisot and his wife; he felt as though he was leaving them both to their deaths.