They're a solemn bunch,“ he complained to Sir Simon about the other men who followed the Harlequin. Like bloody monks.” They can fight," Sir Simon said, though he himself was also daunted by the grim dedication of the Harlequin's men. The men were all confident, but none took the English as lightly as the rest of the army, which had convinced itself that any battle would be won by numbers alone. The Harlequin quizzed Sir Simon and Henry Colley about the English way of fighting, and his ques-tions were shrewd enough to force both men to drop their bombast and think.
They'll fight on foot,“ Sir Simon concluded. He, like all knights, dreamed of a battle conducted on horseback, of swirling men and couched lances, but the English had learned their business in the wars against the Scots and knew that men on foot defended territory much more effectively than horsemen. Even the knights will fight on foot,” Sir Simon forecast, and for every man-at-arms they'll have two or three archers. Those are the bastards to watch.“ The Harlequin nodded. But how do we defeat the archers?” Let them run out of arrows," Sir Simon said. They must, eventu-ally. So let every hothead in the army attack, then wait till the arrow bags are empty. Then you'll get your revenge.
It is more than revenge I want,“ the Harlequin said quietly. What?”
The Harlequin, a handsome man, smiled at Sir Simon, though there was no warmth in the smile. Power,“ he answered very calmly With power, Sir Simon, comes privilege and with privilege, wealth. What are kings,” he asked, but men who have risen high? So we shall rise too, and use the defeat of kings as the rungs of our ladder."
Such talk impressed Sir Simon, though he did not wholly under-stand it. It seemed to him that the Harlequin was a man of high fancies, but that did not matter because he was also unswervingly dedicated to the defeat of men who were Sir Simon's enemies. Sir Simon daydreamed of the battle; he saw the English prince's frightened face, heard his scream and revelled in the thought of taking the insolent whelp prisoner. Jeanette too. The Harlequin could be as secretive and subtle as he wished so long as he led Sir Simon to those simple desires.
And so the French army marched, and still it grew as men came from the outlying parts of the kingdom and from the vassal states beyond France's frontiers. It marched to seal off the Seine and so trap the English, and its confidence soared when it was learned that the King had made his pilgrimage to the Abbey of Saint Denis to fetch the oriflamme. It was France's most sacred symbol, a scarlet banner kept by the Benedictines in the abbey where the Kings of France lay entombed, and every man knew that when the on-flamme was unfurled no quarter would be given. It was said to have been carried by Charlemagne himself and its silk was red as blood, promising carnage to the enemies of France. The English had come to fight, the oriflamme had been released and the dance of the armies had begun.
Sir Guillaume gave Thomas a linen shirt, a good mail coat, a leather-lined helmet and a sword. It's old, but good,“ he said of the sword, a cutter rather than a piercer.” He provided Thomas with a horse, a saddle, a bridle and gave him money. Thomas tried to refuse the last gift, but Sir Guillaume brushed his protest aside. You've taken what you wanted from me, I might as well give you the rest.“ Taken?” Thomas was puzzled, even hurt, by the accusation. Eleanor."
I've not taken her," Thomas protested.
Sir Guillaume's ravaged face broke into a grin. You will, boy,“ he said, you will.”
They rode next day, going eastwards in the wake of the English army that was now far off. News had come to Caen of burned towns, but no one knew where the enemy had gone and so Sir Guillaume planned to lead his twelve men-at-arms, his squire and his servant to Paris. Someone will know where the King is,“ he said. And you, Thomas, what will you do?”
Thomas had been wondering the same ever since he woke to the light in Sir Guillaume's house, but now he must make the decision and, to his surprise, there was no conflict at all. I shall go to my king," he said.
And what of this Sir Simon? What if he hangs you again?“ I have the Earl of Northampton's protection,” Thomas said, though he reflected it had not worked before.
And what of Eleanor?" Sir Guillaume turned to look at his daughter who, to Thomas's surprise, had accompanied them. Her father had given her a small palfrey and, unused to riding, she sat its saddle awkwardly, clutching the high pommel. She did not know why her father had let her come, suggesting to Thomas that perhaps he wanted her to be his cook.
The question made Thomas blush. He knew he could not fight against his own friends, but nor did he want to leave Eleanor. I shall come looking for her,“ he told Sir Guillaume. If you still live,” the Frenchman growled. Why don't you fight for me?"
Because I'm English."
Sir Guillaume sneered. You're Cathar, you're French, you're from Languedoc, who knows what you are? You're a priest's son, a mongrel bastard of heretic stock."
I'm English," Thomas said.
You're a Christian,“ Sir Guillaume retorted, and God has given you and me a duty. How are you to fulfil that duty by joining Edward's army?”
Thomas did not answer at once. Had God given him a duty? If so he did not want to accept it, for acceptance meant believing in the legends of the Vexilles. Thomas, in the evening after he had met Brother Germain, had talked with Mordecai in Sir Guillaume's garden, asking the old man if he had ever read the book of Daniel. Mordecai had sighed, as if he found the question wearlsome. Years ago,“ he'd said, many years ago. It is part of the Ketuvim, the writings that all Jewish youths must read. Why?” He's a prophet, yes? He tells the future."
Dear me, Mordecai had said, sitting on the bench and dragging his thin fingers through his forked beard. You Christians,“ he had said, insist that prophets tell the future, but that wasn't really what they did at all. They warned Israel. They told us that we would be visited by death, destruction and horror if we did not mend our ways. They were preachers, Thomas, just preachers, though, God knows, they were right about the death, destruction and horror. As for Daniel . . . He is very strange, very strange. He had a head filled with dreams and visions. He was drunk on God, that one.” But do you think,“ Thomas had asked, that Daniel could foretell what is happening now?”
Mordecai had frowned. If God wished him to, yes, but why should God wish that? And I assume, Thomas, that you think Daniel might foretell what happens here and now in France, and what possible interest could that hold for the God of Israel? The Ketuvim are full of fancy, vision and mystery, and you Christians see more in them than we ever did. But would I make a decision because Daniel ate a bad oyster and had a vivid dream all those years ago? No, no, no." He stood and held a jordan bottle high. Trust what is before your eyes, Thomas, what you can smell, hear, taste, touch and see. The rest is dangerous.
Thomas now looked at Sir Guillaume. He had come to like the Frenchman whose battle-hardened exterior hid a wealth of kind-ness, and Thomas knew he was in love with the Frenchman's daughter, but, even so, he had a greater loyalty.
I cannot fight against England,“ he said, any more than you would carry a lance against King Philip.”
Sir Guillaume dismissed that with a shrug. Then fight against the Vexilles."
But Thomas could not smell, hear, taste, touch or see the Vexilles. He did not believe the king of the south would send his daughter to the north. He did not believe the Holy Grail was hidden in some heretic's fastness. He believed in the strength of a yew bow, the tension of a hemp cord and the power of a white-feathered arrow to kill the King's enemies. To think of dark lords and of heresiarchs was to flirt with the madness that had harrowed his own father. If I find the man who killed my father,“ he evaded Sir Guillaume's demand, then I will kill him.”
But you will not search for him?"
Where do I look? Where do you look?“ Thomas asked, then offered his own answer. If the Vexilles really still exist, if they truly want to destroy France, then where would they begin? In England's army. So I shall look for them there.” That answer was an evasion, but it half convinced Sir Guillaume, who g
rudgingly conceded that the Vexilles might indeed take their forces to Edward of England. That night they sheltered in the scorched remains of a farm where they gathered about a small fire on which they roasted the hind legs of a boar that Thomas had shot. The men-at-arms treated Thomas warily. He was, after all, one of the hated English archers whose bows could pierce even plate mail. If he had not been Sir Guillaume's friend they would have wanted to slice off his string fingers in revenge for the pain that the white-fledged arrows had given to the horsemen of France, but instead they treated him with a distant curiosity. After the meal Sir Guillaume gestured to Eleanor and Thomas that they should both accompany him outside His squire was keeping watch, and Sir Guillaume led them away from the young man, going to the bank of a stream where, with an odd formality, he looked at Thomas. So you will leave us,“ he said, and fight for Edward of England.”
Yes."
But if you see my enemy, if you see the lance, what will you do?"
Kill him," Thomas said. Eleanor stood slightly apart, watching and listening.
He will not be alone,“ Sir Guillaume warned, but you assure me he is your enemy?”
I swear it," Thomas said, puzzled that the question even needed to be asked.
Sir Guillaume took Thomas's right hand. You have heard of a brotherhood in arms?"
Thomas nodded. Men of rank frequently made such pacts, swear-ing to aid each other in battle and share each other's spoils. Then I swear a brotherhood to you,“ Sir Guillaume said, even if we will fight on opposing sides.”
I swear the same," Thomas said awkwardly.
Sir Guillaume let Thomas's hand go. There,“ he said to Eleanor, I'm safe from one damned archer.” He paused, still looking at Eleanor. I shall marry again,“ he said abruptly, and have children again and they will be my heirs. You know what I'm saying, don't you?”
Eleanor's head was lowered, but she looked up at her father briefly, then dropped her gaze again. She said nothing. And if I have more children, God willing,“ Sir Guillaume said, what does that leave for you, Eleanor?”
She gave a very small shrug as if to suggest that the question was not of great interest to her. I have never asked you for any-thing.“ But what would you have asked for?”
She stared into the ripples of the stream. What you gave me,“ she said after a while, kindness.”
Nothing else?"
She paused. I would have liked to call you Father.“ Sir Guillaume seemed uncomfortable with that answer. He stared northwards. You are both bastards,” he said after a while, and I envy that."
Envy?" Thomas asked.
A family serves like the banks of a stream. They keep you in your place, but bastards make their own way. They take nothing and they can go anywhere.“ He frowned, then flicked a pebble into the water. I had always thought, Eleanor, that I would marry you to one of my men-at-arms. Benoit asked me for your hand and so did Fossat. And it's past time you were married. What are you? Fifteen?”
Fifteen," she agreed.
You'll rot away, girl, if you wait any longer,“ Sir Guillaume said gruffly,'s o who shall it be? Benoit? Fossat?” He paused. Or would you prefer Thomas?"
Eleanor said nothing and Thomas, embarrassed, kept silent. You want her?“ Sir Guillaume asked him brutally. Yes.”
Eleanor?"
She looked at Thomas, then back to the stream. Yes," she said simply.
The horse, the mail, the sword and the money,“ Sir Guillaume said to Thomas, are my bastard daughter's dowry. Look after her, or else become my enemy again.” He turned away. Sir Guillaume?“ Thomas asked. The Frenchman turned back. When you went to Hookton,” Thomas went on, wondering why he asked the question now, you took a dark-haired girl prisoner. She was pregnant. Her name was Jane."
Sir Guillaume nodded. She married one of my men. Then died in childbirth. The child too. Why?“ He frowned. Was the child yours?”
She was a friend," Thomas evaded the question.
She was a pretty friend,“ Sir Guillaume said, I remember that. And when she died we had twelve Masses said for her English soul.”
Thank you."
Sir Guillaume looked from Thomas to Eleanor, then back to Thomas. A good night for sleeping under the stars,“ he said, and we shall leave at dawn.” He walked away.
Thomas and Eleanor sat by the stream. The sky was still not wholly dark, but had a luminous quality like the glow of a candle behind horn. An otter slid down the far side of the stream, its fur glistening where it showed above the water. It raised its head, looked briefly at Thomas, then dived out of sight, to leave a trickle of silver bubbles breaking the dark surface.
Eleanor broke the silence, speaking the only English words she knew. I am an archer's woman," she said.
Thomas smiled. Yes," he said.
And in the morning they rode on and next evening they saw the smear of smoke on the northern horizon and knew it was a sign that the English army was going about its business. They parted in the next dawn.
How you reach the bastards, I do not know,“ Sir Guillaume said, but when it is all over, look for me.”
He embraced Thomas, kissed Eleanor, then pulled himself into his saddle. His horse had a long blue trapper decorated with yellow hawks. He settled his right foot into its stirrup, gathered the reins and pushed back his spurs.
A track led north across a heath that was fragrant with thyme and fluttering with blue butterflies. Thomas, his helmet hanging from the saddle's pommel and the sword thumping at his side, rode towards the smoke, and Eleanor, who insisted on carrying his bow because she was an archer's woman, rode with him. They looked back from the low crest of the heath, but Sir Guillaume was already a half-mile westwards, not looking back, hurrying towards the oriflamme. So Thomas and Eleanor rode on.
The English marched east, ever further from the sea, searching for a place to cross the Seine, but every bridge was broken or else was guarded by a fortress. They still destroyed everything they touched. Their chevauchee was a line twenty miles wide and behind it was a charred trail a hundred miles long. Every house was burned and every mill destroyed. The folk of France fled from the army, taking their livestock and the newly gathered harvest with them so that Edward's men had to range ever further to find food. Behind them was desolation while in front lay the formidable walls of Paris. Some men thought the King would assault Paris, others reckoned he would not waste his troops on those great walls, but instead attack one of the strongly fortified bridges that could lead him north of the river. Indeed, the army tried to capture the bridge at Meulan, but the stronghold which guarded its southern end was too massive and its crossbowmen were too many, and the assault failed. The French stood on the ramparts and bared their backsides to insult the defeated English. It was said that the King, confident of crossing the river, had ordered supplies sent to the port of Le Crotoy that lay far to the north, beyond both the Seine and the River Somme, but if the supplies were waiting then they were unreachable because the Seine was a wall behind which the English were penned in a land they had themselves emptied of food. The first horses began to go lame and men, their boots shredded by marching, went barefoot. The English came closer to Paris, entering the wide lands that were the hunting grounds of the French kings. They took Philip's lodges and stripped them of tapestries and plate, and it was while they hunted his royal deer that the French King sent Edward a formal offer of battle. It was the chivalrous thing to do, and it would, by God's grace, end the harrowing of his farmlands. So Philip of Valois sent a bishop to the English, courteously suggesting that he would wait with his army south of Paris, and the English King graciously accepted the invitation and so the French marched their army through the city and arrayed it among the vineyards on a hillcrest by Bourg-la-Reine. They would make the English attack them there, forcing the archers and men-at-arms to struggle uphill into massed Genoese crossbows, and the French nobles estimated the value of the ransoms they would fetch for their prisoners. The French battleline waited, but no sooner had Philip's a
rmy settled in its positions than the English treacherously turned about and marched in the other direction, going to the town of Poissy where the bridge across the Seine had been destroyed and the town evacuated. A few French infantrymen, poor soldiers armed with spears and axes, had been left to guard the northern bank, but they could do nothing to stop the swarm of archers, carpenters and masons who used timbers ripped from the roofs of Poissy to make a new bridge on the fifteen broken piers of the old. It took two days to repair the bridge and the French were still waiting for their arranged battle among the ripening grapes at Bourg-la-Reine as the English crossed the Seine and started marching northwards. The devils had escaped the trap and were loose again.
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