Crécy Read online

  Philip leaned down, “You were a little lucky for the wind changed, did it not? When you have the experience, you will wait but you have potential.” He stood and said, loudly, to the others, “Now that the nonsense is over then practice can begin. I shall watch when I have had a word with…?”

  “John Hawkwood, sir.”

  “John Hawkwood, the newest member of the London archers!” As arrows flew towards the butts he continued, “You address me as Captain. I serve King Edward and when he goes to war, I lead some of his archers. What is your trade?”

  “Apprentice tailor.”

  I saw him suppress a laugh, “Then you have chosen the wrong trade. Nonetheless, I will make you into an archer for I like your courage. Not many your age would have come here to be mocked and your arrow was well aimed. Even if the wind had taken it you would still have been closer than half of these apologies for men and archers. Now, let us see if we can add to the work already done.”

  I looked forward to Sunday more than any other day of the week. Megs thought I must be very religious; little did she know. The fact that I could use a bow so well, acted as a deterrent to any who thought to challenge me or my gang and I found that my life, for the first time, was good and Philip of Lincoln had made the difference. I learned much from Philip, who seemed to take me under his wing. He told me how wars were fought and the organisation of wings of men. I learned of the wars against the Scots, the Welsh and the French. He told me that it was rare for him to be in one place so long but the only wars at the moment were between the Northern lords and the Scots. King Edward was enjoying a rare time of peace.

  I will not say my time with Stephen the Tailor was wasted for it was not. I was not always fetching, carrying and labouring. I was learning to cut and to sew. He sometimes gave me the task of rough stitching garments. It was not easy for me to learn but my clumsy fingers actually managed to make a passable job of it and that helped me to make arrows. I could fletch as well as any. I also learned skills from Megs. She liked to talk to me for I did not scowl as her husband did and she sometimes used me in the kitchen. It was from her that I learned rudimentary cooking skills and how to fillet meat. She was a little surprised when I produced my own filleting knife, courtesy of the fish boys, but I explained that away by saying I had found it on the road to London. She taught me tricks to make food tastier and even how to make bread. My time in London was not a complete waste of time but it changed me. I think I was like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly and my time in London was when I was a cocoon. I learned to sew, to cook, to become an archer and, thanks to my little gang, how to lead. I could not possibly know that my life would be that of a warrior and most of it would be spent outside England. I was starting out on my path and like all of us, once we step on to that path the only certainty of where it will lead is that at the end, we will die!

  Chapter 1

  Philip of Lincoln told us, in the early spring, that he would be leaving us and appointed Ralph the Mercer as the new captain of the London archers. The rest seemed unconcerned about that, but I was both curious and saddened for I had learned much from him. At the end of the session, I asked him why he was leaving.

  “It is the Scots. Last year they defeated the northern lords twice and King Edward is sending Henry Plantagenet, Earl of Derby, to put them in their place. I march to the muster in Derby.” I got on well with the archer and he leaned in and said, “I believe that when that campaign is ended then we shall go to Flanders! Keep up your practice, tailor, for who knows what the future holds for you! You are the best of these archers. King Edward asked me to make them into archers, but they do not have the heart, save you and Ralph. If England depended upon these then we would be lost.”

  “I would come with you!”

  He laughed, “What, and fall foul of the law? You are an apprentice now, John Hawkwood, and if you broke your contract there would be retribution. I do not think it is what you were destined for and I see a warrior in you. I know that you are handy with your fists and others follow you, but I serve the King and cannot condone lawbreaking.”

  I did not know it then, but the seeds of dissatisfaction were sown that day. Until then I had been content with my lot in life. I will not say happy for that would not be true and I have never lied to myself. I know what I am like and content with the clay which God and the world have moulded. After he left, I wanted something different. When I went back to Needlers Lane I found fault with everything and I let my tongue run so that when Stephen the Tailor began to spit forth food as we ate the Sunday meal, the best evening meal of the week, I did not keep silent nor did I simply duck beneath the gobbets of meat which flew in my direction, I erupted, “You eat like an animal except an animal would not talk and eat at the same time!”

  I stunned him into silence. I am not sure how my life would have turned out had not Megs agreed with me, albeit in a gentler fashion, “He is right, husband, and it is a most disagreeable trait!” Her tone was mild, but it had the effect of fuelling his fire.

  He stood, “Who is Master here? I am a tailor and a member of the guild and I will not be spoken to thus by an apprentice, a piece of gutter rubbish who would have died but for my kindness. I have spared the strap but now I shall beat some obedience into you.”

  I stood and Stephen the Tailor suddenly realised that in the many months I had been with him, I had grown. When I had first come, I had been the same height as the tiny tailor, but I had grown and was now more than a head taller. And as if that was not enough, I was much broader. The archery and the hauling of bolts of cloth had given me arms like oaks and a broad chest. I said nothing nor did I even clench my fists, but he reacted.

  “So, you threaten me! I will call the watch and have you thrown in gaol!”

  The red mist descended for I knew what would be the result, and I just reacted. I pulled back my fist and punched him on the jaw. All of my anger and frustration was in that single punch. I took him by surprise and he simply collapsed, knocking over his chair in the process.

  Megs shook her head and said, sadly, “I will miss you, John. He is a mean-hearted soul and he will prosecute you to the limit of the law. Get your gear and run.” I stood stunned. “Hurry afore he wakes! I will get some food for you. You must leave London and you cannot go home for you will be sought there!” I had made the mistake of telling them where my home was.

  I went to gather my belongings. They had grown. I even had a pair of buskins now made by Robert’s master and stolen for me by my first London friend. By the time I had everything in the canvas bag I had sewn for myself, Megs had put some bread, ham, a hunk of cheese and a few apples in a hessian sack. I slung my canvas bag over my shoulder, and she hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, “I hoped you would be the son I never had. Now go, he stirs!” She held my hand and pressed five coins into it. “Go with God!”

  I hurried from the door. My first task was to get out of the city for the watch had been set and both Aldersgate and Cripplegate would be barred and guarded. I knew the Chepe as well as the back of my hand and I knew I could get over the wall by the church of St Margaret on the Lotabury. Even back then I was able to break down a problem and solve it piece by piece. All else went from my mind and I ran through the streets. I chose St Margaret’s because it was a quiet part of the Chepe. Robert and the others would be waiting for me by the Place of the Folkmoot in Farringdon. I kept to the narrow alleys and smaller streets until I came to the small church and graveyard. Unlike many, I was never afraid of the dead. It was the living who scared me. I slung my gear over my back and began to climb the city wall. None had fought on the fighting platform for many years and the top was covered in dead leaves and rubbish left by animals. I looked over the parapet and saw that the ditch, at this part of the wall, was also overgrown. I lowered myself down and landed in a bramble bush. The thorns went through the thin soles of my shoes. I would have to change into my buskins, but I would not do so until I was well clear of London. I scrambled up the bank o
n the other side of the ditch. I knew that there were houses there and I had to avoid them. Living so close to the wall the occupants would happily tell the City Watch of the young man they had seen scurrying from the ditch. My nightly forays helped me, and I skirted the houses until I was a mile north of the city. I stopped to rearrange my gear and to help me to think.

  There was no point in simply running with no thought to the destination. Where could I go? Sible Hedingham was not an option nor was a return south. That left the north and I suddenly remembered the conversation, just a few hours earlier, with Philip of Lincoln. He was heading north to Derby for the muster. There would be other archers. It was not much of a plan but if I headed there, I might lose myself amongst the other archers who were being mustered. So long as I kept clear of Philip then I might be safe. I knew that the old Roman Road which led north was not far away and I headed for it. Even as I trudged north, I realised that there would be few men on the road at night and those that were upon it would be like me, outside the law. I had three knives and I knew how to use them. I set my foot on the road built more than a thousand years ago and started my new life.

  The fact that I had run the first part of my journey meant that I managed to cover more than twenty miles that first night and into the next day. I knew this because of the mile markers left by the Romans. I was tired, but I hoped that I had outrun any pursuit. The road, both north and south, had been filled with travellers. Merchants had their sumpters and sometimes wagons. Lords rode horses and we scurried out of their way when they approached but the majority were like me, on foot. Travellers were going to London, hopeful of finding a fortune or, in some cases, fleeing the plagues and pestilence which still struck. Fewer people were heading north but all had one thing in common, we had to be out of London. I did not tarry long with any of the ones I passed walking north for I strode out and was, generally faster than they were. I did, however, talk to them for not to do so would have aroused suspicion. I had a vaguely honest story; I was going to the muster. That made some of the people I met smile for I had no beard. I did not mind the mockery for it allayed any suspicions that they might have had. I made sure that I ate when I was alone for I had little enough food as it was, and I did not wish to share. Had I not shared then that might have caused a problem.

  As dusk descended, I saw, ahead, the town of St Albans, so I made plans to rest for the night. I was too close to London to risk an inn and so I looked for somewhere quiet, preferably with a roof. I had learned to find such places when I had travelled from Essex to London. When I came upon a farm, at the end of a track I nocked an arrow. I had not smelled woodsmoke and yet the farm looked to be whole. Even in summer farmers kept fires lit if only to cook. I saw that the farmhouse door was open, and I peered inside. The smell hit me immediately; there were dead people inside and I saw the rat chewed flesh of one of them. Another family, probably a couple of old people, had succumbed to one of the diseases which spread so quickly along this road. I left the house and looked for a barn. The animals who had been inside the barn had managed to escape and it was empty. I climbed up to the hayloft and after making a rough bed, ate. I was not even aware of finishing my food, I just fell asleep.

  When I woke, I found that I had been undisturbed by mice, rats and the like. There were easier pickings inside the farm. I washed, ate and then left to join the road. I used one of the coins which Megs had given to me to buy some fresh bread in St Albans and filled up my waterskin from the well. As much as I wanted the healthier beer, I needed to husband my coins. It was as I headed up the road that I caught up with a small group of men. They were clearly archers for they had their bows in leather cases and there were four of them. I recognised the long hide jacket which Philip of Lincoln had worn and the hat they each wore which kept spare bowstrings dry. Coming up from behind I saw them before they realised that I was there, and I had a decision to make. They had to have spent the night in St Albans and heading north were obviously making for the muster. Did I risk making their acquaintance? What if they had heard of the apprentice with a bow who had fled London? It was still not yet noon and I was not tired. I decided to join them and if there was suspicion then I would take to my legs and flee.

  I did not wish to startle them and so I deliberately made noise as I drew close. I began to hum a May Day tune. They turned as one and I saw hands go to the daggers in their belts. I smiled, “Well met, sirs!”

  One smiled with his face but not his eyes. “Well met to you young fellow. What is your name and purpose this day?”

  I had decided to keep my own name as it would be too confusing to change it. “John Hawkwood, from Essex and I am heading to Derby for I heard they need archers!”

  Three of them burst out laughing. The man who had spoken held up his hand, “Forgive me, boy, but you have yet to shave.”

  I nodded, “And yet Philip of Lincoln told me that I would be a good archer one day and perhaps, if I join the muster, that day will come sooner.”

  That silenced them and their hands went from their daggers, “You know Philip of Lincoln?”

  “I trained with him in London. When I heard that he had left to join the Earl of Derby at Derby then I decided to try my luck.” I shrugged, “The worst they can do is say no for I know I am young, but I am guessing that archers need youths to help them and I am a willing worker. I can carry arrows and plant stakes.”

  “Aye, that shows spirit and I am sorry we laughed at you. I am Robert of Nantwich; this is Dai the Taff and Harry Red Fletch. The one who did not laugh is Silent Simon. God did not grant him a tongue nor the ability to either laugh or cry but he is the best archer amongst us. Come, walk with us for we go to the muster and over the next days we shall get to know you.”

  The journey changed for the better when I took up with the small company of archers and I learned much from them on the road; they added to the knowledge already gleaned from Captain Philip. The four of them had been part of a larger company the last time that they had served King Edward and his northern lords. They had fought at Halidon Hill where their arrows had helped to destroy a Scottish schiltron. Once the peace came, they had gone their separate ways, but Robert was hopeful of joining up with former members of the company. This time I shared my food with them, and, in return, I was rewarded by ale and some of their food. When we had need of a bed, we negotiated a price for the five of us. True, I had to eat into my paltry pool of coins, but it was not by much. I discovered that Silent Simon could communicate; when it was not with his hands then it was with his eyes, his head and even his mouth. With guidance from the others, I soon learned to communicate with him. Of course, they had to know if I had spoken the truth and if I had skill. Not long before Derby we stopped to eat and to drink some ale. There was an empty field, empty that is, save for a single bale of hay which had, for some reason I could not divine, been left there. It was the size of a man and a hundred and fifty paces from us.

  “You say that Philip of Lincoln thought that you had the potential to be a good archer; prove it. “Get as close to the bale as you can with a single arrow!”

  I began to move forward but Harry Red Fletch grinned and said, “From here if you please.”

  They watched me as I strung my bow and then chose my arrow. I licked my finger to ascertain the wind speed and then I nocked the arrow. I was a better archer for having trained with Philip and I remembered his advice. I drew back and the wind dropped. I did not release but loosened my pull and then when I felt the wind once more raised my bow, pulled back and in one motion, released. I held my breath as the range was as far as I had loosed before and I did not wish to lose my new-found friends. The arrow did not fall short but neither did it hit the target. It landed a handspan from it. I turned to look at the four of them.

  “Not bad and Philip of Lincoln was correct, you may make a good archer. You need a longer bow and more strength.” He looked at the others and they nodded, “We have spoken together, and we are happy for you to be our apprentice.” I g
ave him a sharp look. He misunderstood my look, “There will be no papers of indenture, you understand, but you will not stand with us in the front rank. Until you can loose as far as us then you fetch arrows and ale when we fight. You help to cook for us, and, in return, you can have a tenth of our pay!”

  “How much are you paid?”

  “As we are foot archers that is tuppence a day while we are in Scotland. We will pay you five pennies a week.”

  It seemed a reasonable offer and I nodded. “Aye, I will join your company!” We headed into Derby and the muster. I discovered that mounted archers were paid much more, and I asked them about that.

  “Horses cost money but if you see any on the battlefield then grab them no matter what the condition. If you can find horses, then we will get you paid as an archer!” It was an incentive and I grasped it with both greedy hands.

  There were fewer men at the muster than I had expected, and the disappointment must have shown. Dai the Taff, said, in his sing song way, “The men at arms and knights will be in the north, at Berwick, do you see? We will travel north with the baggage and the arrows and meet them there.”

  Robert added, “And besides, there will be more men coming but we will be accorded better accommodation. Harry, go and find the harbingers and get the best you can. I will tell Captain Philip that our company are all here.” The harbingers, I had learned, where the men who found accommodation for archers.

  I was relieved for it meant I could delay meeting with Captain Philip. I had learned that Captain Philip’s actual title was centenar, or captain of a hundred, but such terms were ignored, and he would be our captain. Robert of Nantwich hoped that he would be appointed a vintenar or one who commanded twenty men. As the others and he were men of Flintshire and Cheshire they were considered the best of archers and frequently earned higher pay because of it. We found that we had a stable and that suited me although the others seemed less than pleased. They were good archers and expected a roof and the semblance of a bed. Our pay began as soon as we reached the stable and so the others were unworried about how long we might have to stay there. Food would be provided and although only a stable we had a roof and did not have to endure either a tent or a hovel. While we waited, they turned me into an archer. The first thing they did was to cut my hair so close that you could see my skull.