lads! Others gone? No matter, there’s plenty
here to look after ye.’ He said down with a sigh. ‘That was a
bonny fight, then. Close enough though. Did you hear? My lord Suffolk
fell: the father falls at Harfleur, and now the son at Agincourt. I
saw his shield all smashed up and him beneath it. A bad day for the
leopard-heads, and the widows of La Pole.’
Eric tried to sit up, and winced.
‘ Whoa!’ said William. ‘Take your ease! You’ve
done enough for one day.’ He looked about him. ‘King’s over
there, still talking. My lords Bedford and Exeter too, and Warwick.
You know York got killed, don’t you? Aye, the king’s own brother.
Trampled to death they say. Poor blighter! Drowned in the mud!’
Lewis grunted: ‘King’s princes and peasant boys! Mud
doesn’t care. Swallows ‘em all. What say you, James?’
‘ I’d say I’m happy to be alive.’ He paused.
‘What do you think they’ll call this battle?’
William laughed and spat. ‘They’ll call it bloody
an’ lucky, boyo!’
‘ Nay, ye bell-noggin!’ broke in Lewis, ‘The lad
means . . .’
‘ Aye, I know what he means. Well, I’m guessing it’ll
be called Tramecourt, or Maisoncelles, or perhaps Azincourt after
that castle over there. Makes no odds, anyway, - the king’ll call
it whatever he likes.’
There was a stir as the provost-marshal came up with a
clerk, a priest and three men at arms. They had come to book the
prisoners.
‘ Ask ‘im !’ said Yevan gesturing towards the
provost. ‘He’ll know the king’s mind on the matter.’ He got
to his feet, and stood waiting until the provost caught sight of him,
and waved him across. ‘I’m away, lads!’ he said and walked
across to the provost.
James took the rag end of a French banner and draped it
across Eric’s shoulder: the man-at-arms was shivering despite the
late sun, and he was still deathly pale. Eric nodded his thanks, and
clenched his teeth to stop them chattering.
'They’ll be back soon,’ said James. ‘Then we’ll
get ye to where it’s warm and dry.’
‘ Aye, and none too soon’,’ grumbled Lewis. ‘It’s
a fine thing to win a battle, but it’s a sorry thing to celebrate
by sitting on your backside in freezing mud.’
Slowly, James stood up. His shoulders were stiff, and
his belly hurt, but apart from that . . .
‘ I’ll remember this battle,’ he said.
‘ Good for ye,’ replied Lewis.
James shook his head. ‘No, I’ll remember it. I’ll
remember it when I’m twice as old an’ grey as ye be now, and I’ve
got grandchildren scampering around my feet. I’ll tell them.’
Old Lewis gave a short laugh and looked up at the bowman
from Chiswick. ‘And what will ye tell ‘em?’
‘ I’ll tell ‘em we won a great battle against the
French in a muddy field in a far country far across the sea, and that
we took gold and prisoners by the score.’
‘ And ye’ll no remember your friends?’
'Hah! No need! You’ll all be there in Chiswick,
lounging around, old and fat and sucking on chicken bones. And you’ll
tell me what I ought to say and what I ought not. You too Eric!
You’ll be there!.’
Eric smiled. ‘Chiswick!’ he said. ‘What sort of
scrape-hole is that?’
‘ My scrape-hole!’ laughed James, ‘And you’d be
doing well to find a better one. When I get you out of this, I’ll
take you back home to my Hettie’s until you’re in good enough
shape to return to your own folks.’
Eric said nothing. He just stared. Finally he spoke,
though he still shivered and beads of sweat stood out on his brow:
‘ You’d really do that?’
‘ Aye, I would. And I will. You took a blow for me. I
owe you.’
Slowly the man-at-arms shook his head. ‘You’re mad.
There’s no way, and you’re mad!’
Old Lewis frowned. ‘He’s right James. When you’re
wounded in this army, you walk home on your own, or you don’t go
home at all. Unless you’re a knight or a noble, that is. We all
know that. Talk sense,
here to look after ye.’ He said down with a sigh. ‘That was a
bonny fight, then. Close enough though. Did you hear? My lord Suffolk
fell: the father falls at Harfleur, and now the son at Agincourt. I
saw his shield all smashed up and him beneath it. A bad day for the
leopard-heads, and the widows of La Pole.’
Eric tried to sit up, and winced.
‘ Whoa!’ said William. ‘Take your ease! You’ve
done enough for one day.’ He looked about him. ‘King’s over
there, still talking. My lords Bedford and Exeter too, and Warwick.
You know York got killed, don’t you? Aye, the king’s own brother.
Trampled to death they say. Poor blighter! Drowned in the mud!’
Lewis grunted: ‘King’s princes and peasant boys! Mud
doesn’t care. Swallows ‘em all. What say you, James?’
‘ I’d say I’m happy to be alive.’ He paused.
‘What do you think they’ll call this battle?’
William laughed and spat. ‘They’ll call it bloody
an’ lucky, boyo!’
‘ Nay, ye bell-noggin!’ broke in Lewis, ‘The lad
means . . .’
‘ Aye, I know what he means. Well, I’m guessing it’ll
be called Tramecourt, or Maisoncelles, or perhaps Azincourt after
that castle over there. Makes no odds, anyway, - the king’ll call
it whatever he likes.’
There was a stir as the provost-marshal came up with a
clerk, a priest and three men at arms. They had come to book the
prisoners.
‘ Ask ‘im !’ said Yevan gesturing towards the
provost. ‘He’ll know the king’s mind on the matter.’ He got
to his feet, and stood waiting until the provost caught sight of him,
and waved him across. ‘I’m away, lads!’ he said and walked
across to the provost.
James took the rag end of a French banner and draped it
across Eric’s shoulder: the man-at-arms was shivering despite the
late sun, and he was still deathly pale. Eric nodded his thanks, and
clenched his teeth to stop them chattering.
'They’ll be back soon,’ said James. ‘Then we’ll
get ye to where it’s warm and dry.’
‘ Aye, and none too soon’,’ grumbled Lewis. ‘It’s
a fine thing to win a battle, but it’s a sorry thing to celebrate
by sitting on your backside in freezing mud.’
Slowly, James stood up. His shoulders were stiff, and
his belly hurt, but apart from that . . .
‘ I’ll remember this battle,’ he said.
‘ Good for ye,’ replied Lewis.
James shook his head. ‘No, I’ll remember it. I’ll
remember it when I’m twice as old an’ grey as ye be now, and I’ve
got grandchildren scampering around my feet. I’ll tell them.’
Old Lewis gave a short laugh and looked up at the bowman
from Chiswick. ‘And what will ye tell ‘em?’
‘ I’ll tell ‘em we won a great battle against the
French in a muddy field in a far country far across the sea, and that
we took gold and prisoners by the score.’
‘ And ye’ll no remember your friends?’
'Hah! No need! You’ll all be there in Chiswick,
lounging around, old and fat and sucking on chicken bones. And you’ll
tell me what I ought to say and what I ought not. You too Eric!
You’ll be there!.’
Eric smiled. ‘Chiswick!’ he said. ‘What sort of
scrape-hole is that?’
‘ My scrape-hole!’ laughed James, ‘And you’d be
doing well to find a better one. When I get you out of this, I’ll
take you back home to my Hettie’s until you’re in good enough
shape to return to your own folks.’
Eric said nothing. He just stared. Finally he spoke,
though he still shivered and beads of sweat stood out on his brow:
‘ You’d really do that?’
‘ Aye, I would. And I will. You took a blow for me. I
owe you.’
Slowly the man-at-arms shook his head. ‘You’re mad.
There’s no way, and you’re mad!’
Old Lewis frowned. ‘He’s right James. When you’re
wounded in this army, you walk home on your own, or you don’t go
home at all. Unless you’re a knight or a noble, that is. We all
know that. Talk sense,
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