Sleep,“ Sir Guillaume said, I will watch him.” Thomas slept among the dead, in the battle line where the wounded moaned and the night wind stirred the white feathers flecking the valley. Will Skeat was no different in the morning. He just sat, eyes vacant, gazing at nothing and stinking because he had fouled himself.
I shall find the Earl,“ Father Hobbe said, and have him send Will back to England.”
The army stirred itself sluggishly. Forty English men-at-arms and as many archers were buried in Crecy's church yard, but the hun-dreds of French corpses, all but for the great princes and noblest lords, were left on the hill. The folk of Crecy could bury them if they wished, Edward of England did not care.
Father Hobbe looked for the Earl of Northampton, but two thou-sand French infantry had arrived just after dawn, coming to reinforce an army that had already been broken, and in the misty light they had thought the mounted men who greeted them were friends and then the horsemen dropped their visors, couched their lances and put back their spurs. The Earl led them.
Most of the English knights had been denied a chance to fight on horseback in the previous day's battle, but now, this Sunday morning, they'd been given their moment and the great destriers had torn bloody gaps in the marching ranks, then wheeled to cut the survivors into ragged terror. The French had fled, pursued by the implacable horsemen, who had cut and thrust until their arms were weary with the killing.
Back on the hill between Crecy and Wadicourt a pile of enemy banners was gathered. The flags were torn and some were still damp with blood. The oriflamme was carried to Edward who folded it and ordered the priests to give thanks. His son lived, the battle was won and all Christendom would know how God favoured the English cause. He declared he would spend this one day on the field to mark the victory, then march on. His army was still tired, but it had boots now and it would be fed. Cattle were roaring as archers slaughtered them and more archers were bringing food from the hill where the French army had abandoned its supplies. Other men were plucking arrows from the field and tying them into sheaves while their women plundered the dead.
The Earl of Northampton came back to Crecy's hill roaring and grinning. Like slaughtering sheep!" he exulted, then roamed up and down the line trying to relive the excitements of the last two days. He stopped by Thomas and grinned at the archers and their women.
You look different, young Thomas!“ he said happily, but then looked down and saw Will Skeat sitting like a child with his head bound by the blue scarf. Will?” the Earl said in puzzlement. Sir William?"
Skeat just sat.
He was cut through the skull, my lord,“ Thomas said. The Earl's bombast fled like air from a pricked bladder. He slumped in his saddle, shaking his head. No,” he protested, no. Not Will!“ He still had a bloody sword in his hand, but now he wiped the blade through the mane of his horse and pushed it into the scabbard. I was going to send him back to Brittany,” he said. Will he live?"
No one answered.
Will?“ the Earl called, then clumsily dismounted from the cling-ing saddle. He crouched by the Yorkshireman. Will? Talk to me, Will!”
He must go to England, my lord,“ Father Hobbe said. Of course,” the Earl said.
No," Thomas said.
The Earl frowned at him. No?"
There is a doctor in Caen, my lord,“ Thomas spoke in French now, and I would take him there. This doctor works miracles, my lord.”
The Earl smiled sadly. Caen is in French hands again, Thomas," he said, and I doubt they'll welcome you.
He will be welcome,“ Sir Guillaume said, and the Earl noticed the Frenchman and his unfamiliar livery for the first time. He is a prisoner, my lord,” Thomas explained, but also a friend. We serve you, so his ransom is yours, but he alone can take Will to Caen."
Is it a large ransom?" the Earl asked.
Vast," Thomas said.
Then your ransom, sir,“ the Earl spoke to Sir Guillaume, is Will Skeat's life.” He stood and took his horse's reins from an archer, then turned back to Thomas. The boy looked different, he thought, looked like a man. He had cut his hair, that was it. Chopped it, anyway. And he looked like a soldier now, like a man who could lead archers into battle. I want you in the spring, Thomas,“ he said. There'll be archers to lead, and if Will can't do it, then you must. Look after him now, but in the spring you'll serve me again, you hear?”
Yes, my lord."
I hope your doctor can work miracles," the Earl said, then he walked on.
Sir Guillaume had understood the things that had been said in French, but not the rest and now he looked at Thomas. We go to Caen?" he asked.
We take Will to Doctor Mordecai," Thomas said.
And after that?"
I go to the Earl," Thomas said curtly.
Sir Guillaume flinched. And Vexille, what of him?“ What of him?” Thomas asked brutally. He's lost his damned lance.“ He looked at Father Hobbe and spoke in English. Is my penance done, father?”
Father Hobbe nodded. He had taken the broken lance from Thomas and entrusted it to the King's confessor who had promised that the relic would be taken to Westminster. You have done your penance," the priest said.
Sir Guillaume spoke no English, but he must have understood Father Hobbe's tone for he gave Thomas a hurt look. Vexille still lives,“ he said. He killed your father and my family. Even God wants him dead!” There were tears in Sir Guillaume's eye. Would you leave me as broken as the lance?“ he asked Thomas. What would you have me do?” Thomas demanded.
Find Vexille. Kill him.“ He spoke fiercely, but Thomas said noth-ing. He has the Grail!” the Frenchman insisted. We don't know that,“ Thomas said angrily. God and Christ, he thought, but spare me! I can be an archers” leader. I can go to Caen and let Mordecai work his miracle and then lead Skeat's men into battle. We can win for God, for Will, for the King and for England. He turned on the Frenchman. I am an English archer,“ he said harshly, not a knight of the round table.”
Sir Guillaume smiled. Tell me, Thomas,“ he said gently, was your father the eldest or a younger son?”
Thomas opened his mouth. He was about to say that of course Father Ralph had been a younger son, then realized he did not know. His father had never said, and that meant that perhaps his father had hidden the truth as he had hidden so many things. Think hard, my lord,“ Sir Guillaume said pointedly, think hard. And remember, the Harlequin maimed your friend and the Harle quin lives.”
I am an English archer, Thomas thought, and I want nothing more.
But God wants more, he thought, but he did not want that burden.
It was enough that the sun shone on summer fields, on white feathers and dead men.
And that Hookton was avenged.
Historical Note
Only two actions in the book are pure invention: the initial attack on Hookton (though the French did make many such landings on the English coast) and the fight between Sir Simon Jekyll's knights and the men-at-arms under Sir Geoffrey de Pont Blanc outside La Roche-Derrien. Other than those all the sieges, battles and skirmishes are lifted from history, as was Sir Geoffrey's death in Lannion. La Roche-Derrien fell to escalade, rather than an attack from its riverside, but I wanted to give Thomas something to do, so took liberties with the Earl of Northampton's achievement. The Earl did all that he is credited with in the novel: the capture of La Roche-Derrien, the successful crossing of the Somme at Blanchetaque ford, as well as his exploits in the battle of Crecy. The capture and sack of Caen happened very much as described in the novel, as did the famous battle of Crecy. It was, in brief, an horrific and terrifying period of history which is now recognized as the beginning of the Hundred Years War.
I thought, when I began reading for and researching the novel, that I would be much concerned with chivalry, courtesy and knightly gal-lantry. Those things must have existed, but not on these battlefields, which were brutal, unforgiving and vicious. The book's epigraph, quoted from King Jean II of France, serves as a corrective; many deadly battles have been fo
ught, people slaughtered, churches robbed, souls destroyed, young women and virgins deflowered, respectable wives and widows dishonoured; towns, manors and buildings burned, and robberies, cruelties and ambushes committed on the highways." Those words, written some fourteen years after the battle of Crecy, justified the reasons why King Jean was surren-dering almost a third of French territory to the English; the humili-ation was preferable to a continuation of such ghastly and horrid warfare.
Set-piece battles like Crecy were comparatively rare in the long Anglo-French wars, perhaps because they were so utterly destruc-tive, though the casualty figures for Crecy show that it was the French who suffered and not the English. Losses are hard to com-pute, but at a minimum the French lost two thousand men and the figure was probably nearer four thousand, most of them knights and men-at-arms. The Genoese losses were very high, and at least half of them were killed by their own side. The English losses were paltry, perhaps fewer than a hundred. Most of the credit must go to the English archers, but even when the French did break through the screen of arrows, they lost heavily. A horseman who had lost the momentum of the charge and was unsupported by other horse-men was easy prey to footmen, and so the cavalry of France was butchered in the melee. After the battle, when the French were seeking explanations for their loss, they blamed the Genoese, and there were massacres of Genoese mercenaries in many French towns, but the real French mistake was to attack in a hurry late on the Saturday afternoon instead of waiting until Sunday when they could have arranged their army more carefully. And, having made the decision to attack, they then lost discipline and so threw away their first wave of horsemen, and the remnants of that charge obstructed the better conducted second wave.
There has been a great deal of discussion about the English dispo-sitions in the battle, most of it centring on where the archers were placed. Most historians place them on the English wings, but I have followed Robert Hardy's suggestion that they were arrayed all along the line, as well as on the wings. When it comes to matters about bows, archers and their exploits, Mr Hardy is a good man to heed. Battles were rare, but the chevauchee, an expedition that set out deliberately to waste the enemy's territory, was common. It was, of course, economic warfare, the fourteenth-century equivalent of carpet bombing. Contemporaries, describing the French countryside after the passage of an English chevauchee, recorded that France was overwhelmed and trampled under foot', that it was on the verge of utter ruin“ or tormented and war-ravaged”. No chivalry there, little gallantry and less courtesy. France would eventually recover and expel the English from France, but only after she had learned to cope with the chevauchee and, more importantly, the English (and Welsh) archers.
The word longbow does not appear in the novel, for that word was not used in the fourteenth century (it is for the same reason that Edward of Woodstock, the Prince of Wales, is not called the Black Prince, a later coinage). The bow was simply that, the bow, or perhaps the great bow or the war bow. Much ink has been wasted discussing the origins of the longbow, whether it is Welsh or English, a medieval invention or stretching back to the neolithic, but the salient fact is that it had emerged in the years leading up to the Hundred Years War as a battle-winning weapon. What made it so effective was the number of bowmen who could be assembled in an army. One or two longbows might do damage, but thousands would destroy an army and the English, alone in Europe, were capable of assembling those numbers. Why? The technology could not be simpler, yet still other countries did not produce archers. Part of the answer is surely in the great difficulty it took to become an expert archer. It needed hours and years of practice, and the habit of such practice took hold in only some English and Welsh regions. There had probably been such experts in Britain since the neolithic (yew bows as long as the ones used at Crecy have been found in neolithic graves), but equally probably there were only a few experts, but for some reason or another the Middle Ages saw a popular enthusiasm for the pursuit of archery in parts of England and Wales that led to the rise of the longbow as a mass weapon of war, and certainly once that enthusiasm waned then the bow quickly disappeared from the English arsenal. Common wisdom has it that the longbow was replaced by the gun, but it is more true to say that the longbow withered despite the gun. Benjamin Franklin, no fool, reckoned the American rebels would have won their war much more swiftly had they been practised longbowmen and it is quite certain that a battalion of archers could have outshot and beaten, easily, a battalion of Wellington's veterans armed with smoothbore muskets. But a gun (or crossbow) was much easier to master than a longbow. The longbow, in brief, was a phenomenon, probably fed by a popular craze for archery that translated into a battle-winning weapon for England's kings. It also raised the status of the infantryman, as even the dullest English nobleman came to realize that his life depended on archers, and it is no wonder that archers outnumbered men-at-arms in the English armies of the period.
I have to record an enormous debt to Jonathan Sumption, author of Trial hy Battle, the Hundred Years War, Volume I. It is a rank offence to full-time authors like myself that a man who successfully practices as a lawyer can write such superb books in what is, presumably, his's pare" time, but I am grateful he did so and recommend his history to anyone who wishes to learn more of the period. Any mistakes that remain are entirely my own.
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