devilstone chronicles 01 - devils band

by richard anderton

  The letters from Spain Lannoy had received the previous day had warned him that the emperor’s patience was almost exhausted and His August Majesty would not send any more gold to Italy until the Imperial Army had, at the very least, rescued the 9,000 men of the imperial garrison trapped inside Pavia. Lannoy had angrily tossed the letter into the fire and as the flames consumed the emperor’s ill-disguised rebuke, he’d wondered how his star could shine so brightly one moment yet fade so quickly the next.

  Like the emperor he served, Lannoy had been born in Flanders and, because both the German Hapsburg emperors and the French Valois kings claimed his homeland, it was inevitable that he should become a soldier. Though his ancestors had fought on the French side at the Battle of Agincourt, Lannoy had chosen the Holy Roman Empire and had entered imperial service during the reign of the old Hapsburg Emperor Maximilian I. The ambitious young man had greatly impressed his patron, who’d made Lannoy a Knight of the Golden Fleece and chief equerry to his grandson the future emperor Charles V.

  Lannoy’s meteoric rise had continued once Charles had ascended the imperial throne. In rapid succession, the new emperor had appointed his favourite Governor of Tournai, Viceroy of Naples and commander of all the imperial armies in Italy and Lannoy had repaid Charles’ faith in him by crushing a French army at the Battle of the Sesia River. This victory had opened the way for the rebel Duke of Bourbon to invade Provence but Sesia had been the imperial army’s last success on the battlefield. Bourbon’s failure to capture Marseille, followed by the ignominious retreat over the Alps and the abandoning of Milan to the French, meant the imperial army’s commander in chief was in danger of losing his lucrative position.

  If Lannoy couldn’t relieve Pavia, let alone drive Francis and his army out of Italy, his career would be over but he was to loathe risk a full-scale assault on the city. If such an attack failed his own army would be destroyed, the French would finally win control Lombardy and he’d be utterly ruined. On the other hand, if he continued to disobey The Emperor’s orders to relieve Pavia, the flow of imperial gold would cease, his unpaid army would mutiny and his disgrace would also be total.

  There seemed to be no way out of this impasse and Lannoy knew time was running out. In the dispatches brought from Pavia by the previous night’s raid the garrison’s commander, de Leyva, had admitted he’d only recently averted a mutiny by melting down church plate to pay his mercenaries. De Leyva had also claimed that had he not committed such sacrilege, his landsknechts would have surrendered the city to the French and gone home.

  Though Lannoy and de Leyva were both spending gold faster than an old fool married to a young trollop, the revelation that there was nothing worth plundering in the Five Abbeys could only mean that the French king had also seized church plate to pay his men. If Francis was as bankrupt as himself, it followed that neither commander could keep their mercenaries in the field any longer than the other and this gave Lannoy an idea of how he could simultaneously assault Pavia and abandon the siege whilst keeping both his honour and his purse intact.

  Instead of a bloody assault on the French siege works, an attack on the enemy camps in the deer park would keep Francis’ army occupied whilst Pavia’s garrison broke out of the besieged city. Once the two imperial forcers were reunited, they could withdraw to the safety of Lodi and wait for the better weather, and the imperial treasure ships, to arrive in a few months’ time.

  Even if this strategy failed, and the garrison was forced to surrender, Lannoy reckoned he’d be no worse off than he was now. Having obeyed The Emperor’s orders to attack there’d be no need for him to remain at Pavia, he could still withdraw to Lodi in good order and promise to begin the war anew in the spring. Though, in either case, his plan would leave the French in possession of this strategically important city, Lannoy calculated it would be a Pyrrhic victory for his enemies because Francis would find no gold to pay his men or bread to feed them inside Pavia.

  With luck, the poverty of the city would force Francis to take his battered army back over the Alps and the more Lannoy thought about his scheme, the more convinced he became of its merits. He decided that the 24th of February, ten days hence, would be the day best suited to his plan’s execution as this would give his men plenty of time to prepare whilst the French would be further weakened by disease and desertion. Moreover, apart from being St Matthias’ Day and the luckiest day in the Christian year to begin any endeavour, this date was The Emperor Charles V’s birthday.

  Whilst Lannoy outlined his plan to his colonels, the French Duke of Bourbon, the German warlords George von Frundsberg and Marx Sittich von Ems, and the Neapolitan condottieri the Marquis de Pescara and his cousin the Marquis de Vasto, in another part of the camp Thomas Devilstone sat looking up at the starry winter sky. Algol, The Devil’s Star, was shining blood red in the constellation of Perseus and every astrologer knew that this was an omen of confrontation and war.

  Algol represented the head of the Medusa, the hideous snake haired female demon killed by the hero Perseus, and though he no longer put any faith in astrology, Thomas wasn’t surprised that the appearance of the star heralded the arrival of an ugly old crone at his tent. Several days ago, he’d followed Quintana’s advice and paid the beggar woman to carry a message to Richard de la Pole offering to settle their differences by single combat, should the two armies meet in battle. To make sure his intentions were clear Thomas had enclosed a handful of heron feathers with his letter.

  The heron was a bird rumoured to be so cowardly it fled from its own shadow and Thomas was certain that the White Rose wouldn’t let such an insult go unpunished but the reply wasn’t at all what he expected. Without a word, the crone handed him a small wooden casket sealed with wax seals that bore the imprint of a white rose. Thomas tossed the crone a coin and watched her scuttle away into the darkness. As soon as he was alone, he broke the seals and opened the box.

  There was no letter inside but the heron feathers had been returned, stuck in a cork and fashioned to resemble a shuttlecock used to play the peasant game of battledore. A man didn’t have to be a student of Trithemius to understand de la Pole’s meaning, the last prince of the House of York was declining the challenge because he considered the challenger to be too low born. In a rage Thomas threw the shuttlecock to the ground and stamped it into the mud.

  22

  THE DEER PARK

  The powers of recuperation displayed by Bos astonished everyone, including Thomas, and he begged to be told the secret of the medicine Prometheus administered to his patient every day. At first the Nubian would only smile, and say that alchemists were not the only ones who could work magic, but the Englishman persisted. Thomas argued that Prometheus might have need of the same physick one day and there’d be nobody to prepare it if wounds had rendered the Nubian insensible.

  Eventually Prometheus relented and, amongst other things, showed Thomas how to make the poultice that prevented wounded men from developing the fever that often killed them. The main ingredients were stale bread and certain spider webs, which were ground up with water to form a thick paste. This glutinous porridge was then placed in an earthenware pot, which was buried close to a regularly used campfire and left in the warm earth for two days. Once the porridge had grown a thin coat of blue-green mould it could be smeared on the wound and covered with clean bandages.

  “By the great winged ox of St Luke you have the gift of healing Nubian,” said Bos as he took his first steps since being shot and Thomas had to agree that the poultice had worked a genuine miracle.

  “I’ve seen men survive deep wounds only to die of fever within the month,” he said admiringly.

  “The secret is to apply a fresh poultice every day and use only blue mould not black or red. Blue purifies the blood but other colours are poisonous,” Prometheus warned.

  “You should sell such secrets to the quacks and sawbones that have slaughtered more men than all the barbarian hordes of Tartary, you’d make a fortune!” said Quintana. />
  “The power to heal is a gift from God, it shouldn’t be bought and sold like a basket of eggs, besides I’ve already told you that no one trusts the medicines of a stranger,” snapped Prometheus but, in spite of this opinion, the men of The Devil’s Band were deeply impressed by the Nubian’s miraculous salve and they regarded Bos’ rapid recovery as further proof that their company was blessed with supernatural good fortune. Their sergeant’s return to the ranks was especially timely as the camp was alive with talk that another night assault on the French lines was imminent.

  The rumours were confirmed when, on St Matthias’ Eve, every man was ordered to stitch a large white square to his clothing, or find a white undershirt to wear, and spend the rest of the day sharpening his weapons. Prometheus was puzzled by this command but Quintana assured him that it was a simple device to help tell friend from foe in the dark and went back to putting a keen edge on his cat skinner sword.

  As the hours passed, the imperial camp became infected with a miasma of excitement as the men of Lannoy’s army steeled themselves for battle. Few prayed, most drank and the whores did a brisk trade as hundreds of pikemen, halberdiers and arquebusiers prepared for death by trying to create life. Inevitably, brawls broke out as drunken landsknechts fought over wine and women so, to create a distraction, the provosts hanged thirty deserters from a huge triangular gallows. Like gluttons at a feast of death, the crowd of baying, jeering mercenaries thoroughly enjoyed this taste of blood and by sunset the men who made a good living from killing were eager for the real slaughter to begin.

  After his challenge to single combat had been refused Thomas was also impatient to meet de la Pole on the battlefield and he answered his summons to a meeting of Frundsberg’s captains with alacrity. When he returned an hour later, he gathered The Devil’s Band together and explained the forthcoming attack was no mere raid like the assault on the Five Abbeys. Instead they were to be part of a great battle that would shape the future of all Christendom. His men murmured their approval and listened intently as their captain explained how they were to march into history.

  Taking a piece of charcoal, Thomas sketched a map on a broad canvas sheet he’d had nailed to the side of a cart. Just as he’d done for Frundsberg, he drew a large diamond to represent the fifteen foot high wall around the deer park, with the besieged city of Pavia at the bottom and the French baggage park at the Castel Mirabello in the middle. At the top of the diamond, close to the Porta Pescarina, he marked the point where Spanish sappers had already begun to break down an unguarded section of the wall. At the diamond’s western point he marked the French camp by the Porta Repentina and at the eastern point he marked the Swiss camp by the Porta Levrieri.

  Having drawn his map, Thomas told his men that the imperial guns would soon begin bombarding the Five Abbeys but this would be a diversion. Whilst the French and Swiss sheltered from the storm of cannon fire, Lannoy would lead his army of Spaniards, Neapolitans and Germans to the breach in the deer park’s northern wall. The actual battle would begin when 3,000 Neapolitan arquebusiers, under the Marquis de Vasto, launched a surprise attack on the Castel Mirabello. Lannoy had become convinced that the French king had recently moved into the comfortable hunting lodge and if the Neapolitans could capture Francis as he slept, the battle would be over before it had begun.

  On the other hand, if Francis was elsewhere, de Vasto would hold Mirabello whilst the rest of the imperial army stormed the other French camps. To launch simultaneous attacks on objectives nearly three miles apart, the imperials would be divided into two separate columns. The first column would consist of two Spanish pike squares, led by Pescara and Bourbon, as well as most of the imperial horse commanded in person by the Count of Lannoy. The second column would be made up of two German pike squares, led by Sittich and Frundsberg, supported by the remainder of the cavalry.

  While Pescara and Bourbon’s igels stormed the camp by the Porta Repentina, Lannoy’s Spanish and Italian horsemen would engage the French knights and mounted men-at-arms. Meanwhile Sittich and Frundsberg’s igels, including The Devil’s Band, would attack the Swiss at the Porta de Levrieri. Lannoy’s strategy, Thomas told his men, was to pin down the entire French army whilst the imperial garrison inside Pavia broke out of the beleaguered city. At a given signal, their comrades would batter down the Torretta gate at the southern tip of the deer park and, if everything went according to plan, all the imperial forces would meet at Mirabello and make an orderly withdrawal to Lodi.

  When he’d finished, Thomas let his men discuss the plan for a few minutes. Like all those facing death, his men wanted to know their chances of survival so their captain climbed onto the cart and spoke to reassure them.

  “You know me, I was saved from an unjust hanging so I could raise The Devil’s Band and there can be no doubt that tomorrow we’ll win a great victory at Pavia because all ventures begun on St Matthias’ day are blessed,” said Thomas and he paused to let a murmur of approval ripple through the ranks of his men. When he was certain he had their full attention, he began again and this time he carefully increased the power and passion in his voice as he spoke.

  “After Judas had betrayed Our Lord and hanged himself, Matthias was chosen by lot to join the Apostles. Now you’ve been chosen to fight for the Holy Roman Emperor, heir of Constantine Equal of the Apostles, and a hanged man will lead you into battle on St Matthias’ Day. Could there be any better omens? It’s written in the stars that we shall win wealth and glory by the steel in our hands and the courage in our hearts but a greater prize is that the things we do at Pavia will be numbered amongst the deeds of heroes forever. Years from now, we may be mocked for our gouty legs and rheumy eyes but those who think us feeble will fall silent when we strip our sleeves, show our scars and declare that once we marched to Pavia and fought for the emperor upon St Matthias’ Day!”

  As his men began to shout loud hurrahs, Thomas snatched the hat from his head and waved it in salute. His men replied by calling on The Almighty to help them smite the French, crush the Swiss and punish the hated traitors in the Black Band but their captain said only one silent prayer. Amidst all the cheering Thomas asked the God of Battles to bring him face to face with Richard de la Pole but before he could elaborate on his vow, a messenger arrived with orders for The Devil’s Band to join the other companies assembling on the parade ground.

  The imperial army was ordered to form up as quietly as possible because the first part of their march would take them close to the Swiss sentries at the Porta Levrieri. Though the captains insisted that silence was essential to maintaining the element of surprise their sergeants made a considerable amount of noise by cursing loudly any man whose weapon clattered against his armour. After nearly an hour of feverish, though hushed, preparation the army was ready to move but Lannoy insisted that the men kneel and say a prayer to St Matthias before taking a single step.

  As soon as the chaplains had finished their final benediction, the night sky dissolved into a hellish maelstrom of fire, smoke and noise. The barrage continued even after Lannoy had given the order to advance and though the thunderous cannon fire succeeded in covering the sounds of marching men, the flashes of flame from the guns’ muzzles illuminated the imperial army as brightly as the Egyptian Pharos lit Alexandria’s harbour.

  Despite all of Lannoy’s careful precautions, the Swiss sentries on the walls of the Porta Levrieri couldn’t fail to spot twenty thousand men shuffling past their watchtowers and they quickly alerted their colonel. Though only 34, the Seigneur de la Flourance was an experienced and able commander and he immediately sounded the alarm. Within ten minutes his 3,000 Swiss reisläufer were formed up on the Porta Levrieri’s walls, their guns loaded and matches lit. For half an hour Flourance’s men waited for an assault on the eastern gate to begin but the Swiss could only stare in bewilderment as the imperial column ignored them and disappeared into the moonless night.

  The Seigneur quickly realised that Lannoy was trying to outflank his position and f
orce an entry somewhere else along the deer park’s wall. He also reasoned that Lannoy would probably choose to storm the Porta Pescarina or Porta Duo so he immediately sent a rider to warn King Francis of the danger. Four landsknecht pike squares would wreak havoc if they managed to enter the deer park, and only Flourance’s Swiss were close enough to reinforce the lightly defended northern gates, so as soon as the messenger had left, the Seigneur gave orders for his men to march.

  The Devil’s Band were in the van of the column that crept through the wintry countryside as silently as tens of thousands of fully armed men could. Their feet crunched on the frosty earth and their breath hung in great clouds around each man’s head. Though their destination was only three miles away, the darkness of the night and the sheer number of men slowed the column’s march to a crawl and it took nearly four hours to reach the breach in the wall made by the sappers.

  Much to Lannoy’s annoyance the gap was far too small to allow an entire army to pass through, so in spite of the cold and their eagerness to slaughter sleeping Frenchmen, the army had to wait whilst the Spanish gastadores broke down more masonry. It took another three hours for the sappers to make the original breach wider, and open two additional gaps in the wall, so it was nearly dawn when the Marquis de Vasto climbed onto a pile of rubble to address the Neapolitan arquebusiers who were to attack the Castel Mirabello.

  “Listen you men, I am Alfonso, de Avolos, d’Aquini Marquis de Vasto and like you I’m from Naples. Though we may be cold now, I’m going to lead you to a place that’s hotter than the mouth of Vesuvius because it’s there we’ll find fame, glory and plunder! We’re to surprise the French king and his noble dukes and marquises as they sleep at Castel Mirabello and if we take them alive we’ll share a ransom beyond the avarice of a Persian emperor. So prime your guns, light your matches and follow me!” said de Vasto and he led his men into the breach. Quintana watched the Neapolitans disappear into the dawn mist and cursed his luck.