the Duke of Brabant by
mistake . . .’
‘ So it was you, boyo!’ broke in Yevan. ‘What sort
of trick was that to cut the throat of a duke, when you could have
had a feast of ransom?’
Morgaun cursed, and slowed his stride. ‘He was dressed
in the tabard of a squire, damn his eyes! No one knew him. It was
over so quick.’
‘ Ah well. What’s done is done. For my part, I only
grabbed a couple of half-dead knights, but I hear William Bretoun got
him a royal duke, Orleans it was!’
‘ The devil ‘e did! Who told you that?’
‘ William Glyn from Tudur’s company. He saw Bretoun
put a clout-head fair smack into his breastplate. Near knocked the
stuffing out of ‘im. Glyn got there first with his poignard, but it
was Bretoun’s arrow what nailed the duke, so ‘e gets the lion’s
share.’
‘ After the king and old Erpingham have had a bite of
it,’ replied Morgaun who was tiring of the conversation, and eager
to get to the port and find a tavern.
'Aye, that’s as maybe, but ‘e’ll go home with
enough to raise a company and come back to France for more.’
James who was sweating beneath his load, and like
Morgaun eager to quench his thirst, shook his head: ‘No more of
this for me’, he said.
But Yevan only half heard him. He was gazing at the
gates to the town, and the barbican towers that defended them.
'Nearly there,’ he said. ‘If Harry doesn’t make us
camp outside the town, we’ll be in the streets within the hour.’
He paused. ‘Can ye hear the bells? They’re ringing us in!’ he
threw back his head and laughed. ‘Hah! It’s free for us in there,
lads! Whatever we like!’
'All I want,’ replied James, ‘is a hot meal, a warm
bed of straw, and news of a boat on the morrow.’
'England?’
'Aye, England. What say you, Eric?’
'I say anywhere a man can lie down, and ease his bones
is good enough for me.’ He was leaning heavily on his staff, and
blood was showing through the bandaging across his shoulder.
'Well, we’ll have ye there in a short while’, said
Old Lewis. ‘See! Here’s a hay cart on it’s way to no where in
particular. Let’s be putting young Eric on it!’
They waved the ox-cart down. It was driven by a young
boy and his father, who looked a little uncertain when they
understood what the archers wanted, but finally the father shrugged,
muttered something in French , and helped Eric up onto the cart.
And so they came to Calais, and made the streets their
own, though they camped outside the town at command of the king, and
took shelter as best they could beneath the walls, and in the fields
and hedgerows that ran down to the great sea.
Three days later, they took ship for England. The king
had paid the indentured archers and men-at-arms as best he could, but
many were forced to sell their plunder cheaply just to get food.
Prisoners were also ransomed cheaply. Bread, salted pork and Gascon
wine became scarce throughout the town, and prices soared. The
sutlers prospered.
James, and the other archers of his company found a
little Cog in the harbour that was bound for Winchelsea. It was the
Andrew of Rye, and though its master had come to trade barrels of
Rhenish for fine Sussex wool, he was willing to make space for
longbowmen with wallets full of the king’s silver.
‘ Come up, my lads!’ he said, leaning over the rail,
and beaming down on them where they stood on the stone quayside.
‘We’ve room enough for thee, and all ye carry. Are ye from the
great battle?’
‘ We are!’ replied Jankyn, ‘And we’re ready for
home!’
The master laughed. ‘That I’ll warrant! We sail on
the noon tide. There’s a dry nor’easter at our backs and an easy
swell ahead o’ us. Should be a good crossing.’ He waved them on,
then turned to shout at a sailor who was rolling a wine barrel up the
gangplank. Moments later they were all aboard.
They reached Winchelsea the following morning, coming in
on the tide, and sliding through the mist that all but
mistake . . .’
‘ So it was you, boyo!’ broke in Yevan. ‘What sort
of trick was that to cut the throat of a duke, when you could have
had a feast of ransom?’
Morgaun cursed, and slowed his stride. ‘He was dressed
in the tabard of a squire, damn his eyes! No one knew him. It was
over so quick.’
‘ Ah well. What’s done is done. For my part, I only
grabbed a couple of half-dead knights, but I hear William Bretoun got
him a royal duke, Orleans it was!’
‘ The devil ‘e did! Who told you that?’
‘ William Glyn from Tudur’s company. He saw Bretoun
put a clout-head fair smack into his breastplate. Near knocked the
stuffing out of ‘im. Glyn got there first with his poignard, but it
was Bretoun’s arrow what nailed the duke, so ‘e gets the lion’s
share.’
‘ After the king and old Erpingham have had a bite of
it,’ replied Morgaun who was tiring of the conversation, and eager
to get to the port and find a tavern.
'Aye, that’s as maybe, but ‘e’ll go home with
enough to raise a company and come back to France for more.’
James who was sweating beneath his load, and like
Morgaun eager to quench his thirst, shook his head: ‘No more of
this for me’, he said.
But Yevan only half heard him. He was gazing at the
gates to the town, and the barbican towers that defended them.
'Nearly there,’ he said. ‘If Harry doesn’t make us
camp outside the town, we’ll be in the streets within the hour.’
He paused. ‘Can ye hear the bells? They’re ringing us in!’ he
threw back his head and laughed. ‘Hah! It’s free for us in there,
lads! Whatever we like!’
'All I want,’ replied James, ‘is a hot meal, a warm
bed of straw, and news of a boat on the morrow.’
'England?’
'Aye, England. What say you, Eric?’
'I say anywhere a man can lie down, and ease his bones
is good enough for me.’ He was leaning heavily on his staff, and
blood was showing through the bandaging across his shoulder.
'Well, we’ll have ye there in a short while’, said
Old Lewis. ‘See! Here’s a hay cart on it’s way to no where in
particular. Let’s be putting young Eric on it!’
They waved the ox-cart down. It was driven by a young
boy and his father, who looked a little uncertain when they
understood what the archers wanted, but finally the father shrugged,
muttered something in French , and helped Eric up onto the cart.
And so they came to Calais, and made the streets their
own, though they camped outside the town at command of the king, and
took shelter as best they could beneath the walls, and in the fields
and hedgerows that ran down to the great sea.
Three days later, they took ship for England. The king
had paid the indentured archers and men-at-arms as best he could, but
many were forced to sell their plunder cheaply just to get food.
Prisoners were also ransomed cheaply. Bread, salted pork and Gascon
wine became scarce throughout the town, and prices soared. The
sutlers prospered.
James, and the other archers of his company found a
little Cog in the harbour that was bound for Winchelsea. It was the
Andrew of Rye, and though its master had come to trade barrels of
Rhenish for fine Sussex wool, he was willing to make space for
longbowmen with wallets full of the king’s silver.
‘ Come up, my lads!’ he said, leaning over the rail,
and beaming down on them where they stood on the stone quayside.
‘We’ve room enough for thee, and all ye carry. Are ye from the
great battle?’
‘ We are!’ replied Jankyn, ‘And we’re ready for
home!’
The master laughed. ‘That I’ll warrant! We sail on
the noon tide. There’s a dry nor’easter at our backs and an easy
swell ahead o’ us. Should be a good crossing.’ He waved them on,
then turned to shout at a sailor who was rolling a wine barrel up the
gangplank. Moments later they were all aboard.
They reached Winchelsea the following morning, coming in
on the tide, and sliding through the mist that all but
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