by Jack Ludlow
‘Who is His Eminence addressing?’
Hawkwood gave his name and rank, which seemed to disconcert the divine; he must know the name of Albert Sterz by now and had no doubt anticipated a meeting with the captain general. After a pause, the cardinal produced a thick scroll, bound in a blood-red ribbon, which was handed to the same speaker.
Untying the ribbon, the fellow rolled it open and began to read in a sonorous voice, telling the man before him, as well as every member of the Great Company or anyone who aided them in any way in their blasphemous behaviour, that they were now beyond a state of grace, denied the Eucharist, confession and the last rites. Pope Innocent had excommunicated them all.
‘The Pontiff is, however, a merciful man. He orders that you present yourselves to him at his Palace of the Popes before the Feast of Michael and All Saints, where you will do penance for your manifest sins. You must also make reparations to his Holy Estate for that which you have robbed and despoiled in the lands he holds by the Grace of God for Mother Church. That done, Pope Innocent will consider, should he see true repentance, lifting the Bull of Excommunication.’
The scroll was rolled tight again before being cast down at Hawkwood’s feet. Tempted to ask what paupers had paid with their pennies for the cardinal’s mount and his clothing, Hawkwood put that aside. Instead he picked up the Papal Bull, looking at the carved and gilded edges around which it was wrapped before tossing it over the stone parapet and into the River Rhone.
‘You will burn in hell for that,’ said the cardinal, finally addressing Hawkwood directly.
‘I daresay you will provide Lucifer with as good a blaze as me.’
‘Do you not realise what I have said? You are beyond forgiveness and so are those you lead.’
A man who did not look capable of anything more than a loud whisper surprised Hawkwood to produce a loud call that was strong enough to reach the walls of Pont-Saint-Esprit.
‘Within the town, the men you harbour are apostates and thus you may kill them at will and remain free from sin. Be sure that Christ our Saviour will welcome into heaven any citizen who spills the blood of these delinquents. Mother Church has disowned them and so must you on pain that you too, all of you, will suffer anathema.’
Behind him, Hawkwood heard the growls as well as the swords being unsheathed, which caused him to hold up his hand and call out. ‘Belay, let it never be said that we bloody a truce flag even from an envoy of Satan.’
The eyes upon him were cold enough to cause a shiver, for the man looked more devil than priest. The mount was spun round in its own length and the cardinal departed, his escort likewise, leaving the man he had addressed with a conundrum.
‘Christopher, go to Ivor and tell him to take the bishop to his church. Then I want it carried by crier to the whole town: everyone to assemble for a special Mass. Let the good folk of Pont-Saint-Esprit see us take the Eucharist, which will tell them what credence we put on papal excommunication.’
‘Will the bishop agree to officiate?’
There was nothing calm or restrained about Hawkwood’s response; he was seething and it showed. ‘If he does not, he will find himself in the stocks with my entire brigade ready to throw the filth of the town at him, and perhaps objects more likely to maim the old sod. Happen we will see if he believes in the faith he professes or has the stomach to be a martyr like St Saturnin.’
CHAPTER TEN
Excommunication was not the only instrument in the papal tool casket even if the Pontiff, finding himself ignored, had brought down anathema on the Great Company not once but twice. The routiers took this as a compliment, a statement of their worth, it being a sanction only previously applied to monarchs who sorely displeased the Holy See.
The reasons were not hard to fathom: the vaults that had once held the bishop were now full of booty, much of it in coin, a great deal of which had come from the bridge tolls collected by Hawkwood. Beyond that on the east bank of the River Rhone the Comtat Venaissin had yielded up a cornucopia of produce and treasure which included everything from ransoms and raided aristocratic coffers to the valuables of manors, cathedrals and monasteries.
Prized crucifixes were mixed with endless church plate, this augmented by gold, pearl and jewel-sewn vestments. Then came the reliquaries, by which the clergy engaged the veneration of their flocks. It was hard to know what troubled them more; the loss of their gold and silver ornaments or some fragment of the bones of a saint or martyr.
The company was able to mock their denial of the sacraments. More worrying was Pope Innocent’s next step: the call for a crusade against the free companies – all of them – primarily those harrying papal lands, with remission of sin, as it had been in all previous Crusades, the payment to serve the needs of the church. The countryside around Avignon was now beginning to fill with encampments as the call was answered, which meant raiding that far south had become perilous even if it was seen in Pont-Saint-Esprit as a distant threat. But it could grow, so riding out in search of plunder was put aside in favour of a council where all could discuss the way to react.
‘Indulgences and no need to go all the way to Palestine?’ mused Hawkwood, as the gathering assembled.
‘A potent threat is forming,’ was the opinion of Leofrick of Aachen, ‘and one we must carefully consider.’
No one bothered to tell the Rhinelander he was stating the obvious: that such was the very purpose of his presence, though many an eye was raised to the rafters of the bishop’s audience chamber.
‘The question we are gathered to ask and answer is how do we go about countering it?’ If Sterz had expected a response to that query, a solution of sorts, he was sorely disappointed. ‘As I see it, there are only two alternatives. Do we stay or do we depart?’
‘To where, Captain General?’ Hawkwood enquired.
Leofrick puffed himself up to respond. ‘We have the ability to go anywhere we choose.’
‘Then let us go to Avignon,’ joked John Thornbury.
Pompous and bereft of sense as ever, Leofrick replied with due bombast. ‘If that is here agreed it will not be my brigade found wanting.’
‘Why go anywhere?’ Hawkwood asked softly. ‘We are in possession of a near impregnable fortress and this supposed host gathering against us is yet nothing but talk.’
‘A fortress you, Francis and I captured,’ Jonzac reminded him. ‘And very easily, I recall.’
‘Do not forget my men took part as well.’
Roland de Jonzac smiled, for it was a gentle rebuke. ‘Granted, but it was not much trouble.’
‘Which I have taken steps to ensure cannot happen again, my friend.’
‘It is far from just idle gossip,’ Cunradus interjected; as the man charged with knowing about such matters, he had a grasp of the threat greater than those of the soldiers. ‘According to the travellers I have questioned, lances have already arrived and we are told of many more on the way. In addition it is not just indulgences bringing them to Avignon: Innocent is disbursing gold in great quantities as well.’
‘It is about time he coughed up some of that which he squeezed from his flock.’
The point made by Baldwin set off a general babble as the low opinions of the Holy Church were noisily aired. There was supposed to be a formula to this sort of council: each captain was empowered to speak in turn, usually to advance the feelings of his own brigade, though sometimes there was scant consultation with lesser beings.
If that was the theory it was not the reality: they never proceeded as smoothly as the likes of Cunradus wished. Men such as these could not be so easily corralled and were reluctant to give way to another so constant interruptions were the norm. Sterz, unless he had already formed an opinion and a plan he was determined to impose, tended to stay aloof but not on this occasion: indeed, he appeared to be in serious doubt. The person he needed to answer his questions regarding a possible course was happy to do so.
‘When Pont-Saint-Esprit fell to us it had a garrison of some fifty me
n in total.’ Hawkwood paused while this was acknowledged. ‘We are far greater in number by a huge factor and I take leave to suggest we are better fighters than those we overcame.’
Growls greeted that assertion; if the freebooters were proud of anything it was their professional skills. That asserted, they were not as strong as they had been on arrival. Raiding could not be carried out without risk, for not all their victims succumbed without a struggle. If deaths had been uncommon they had nevertheless occurred and with plundering success there had been an increase in desertions. That accepted, as a defensive body they had more than enough men to man the walls as well as to launch sorties to disrupt any preparations for assault.
‘Which,’ Sterz cut in, ‘will make taking these walls a bloody affair.’
Hawkwood concurred before he continued, clarifying that the public granaries were full and not just those; every householder in Pont-Saint-Esprit had been allowed to stockpile their own food, the allowance of which, designed to keep them quiescent, they had taken full advantage. If the freebooters had not been as rapacious as first feared that did not induce any feeling of security in the common breast.
He then reminded his confrères that the wells that supplied the city’s water lay within the walls, so the supply could neither be cut off nor poisoned by the tipping in of dead animals, the lack of anything to drink being a sure way to overcome even the most potent defence. As well as wheat and oats there was ample livestock grazing the surrounding fields, all of which could be fetched in, while the huge wine vats were maturing the very good pickings of vendange, while there was fruit in abundance too.
‘Can we rely on those we hold?’ asked Baldwin.
He was clearly looking for a sound reason to depart. He meant the citizens of Pont-Saint-Esprit, who could betray them and make meaningless the stout walls Hawkwood insisted would keep them safe. Three others nodded in encouragement and all present were aware that fortresses more often fell to treachery than assault, a question Cunradus answered. The monk had authority in this: his anathema meant more to a man of his calling than it did to a freebooter.
‘The excommunication extended to anyone who gave succour to us. They too are seen as apostates. I think the citizenry of Pont-Saint-Esprit will know of the fate of heretics, which is how they will be seen by those who see themselves on Crusade.’
The list of massacres in the name of religion was known to all, from the Albigensians to Jerusalem itself, where every Jew and Muslim in the city had been slaughtered in the name of God. Hawkwood wanted to move from the thought of such matters to the reality of anyone trying to take the town as well as the pressure on those in the siege lines.
‘Have we not all experienced the misery of such a task only to find that after months of fruitless attacks or waiting on short commons, our bellies ravaged with disease, the defenders demand a parley, then terms, before marching out with their weapons and carts loaded with their possessions? The King gets the castle while we get nothing.’
‘Not,’ Baldwin opined, ‘a release likely to be granted to us. Innocent wants us strung up, I’m sure.’
Francis the Belge spoke next. ‘A possibility so far in the future as to be an unknown, Baldwin.’
‘I do not claim to know the future, do you?’
Such an irascible response set them all against each other. Cunradus, giving Sterz jaundiced looks for his lack of assistance, tried hard to control the debate, only partially successful as those who wished to run from the impending problem argued with the others who thought they could hold out against Innocent and indeed thwart his purpose. Hawkwood was the most vocal progenitor of the latter, only stopping when Sterz shouted for silence.
‘What is known, or will be common talk in this host forming to fight us, is how well we have stripped this province of its wealth. Innocent has bleated enough about it to anyone who will listen. He may be content to drive us off his lands, but what if those he is gathering think not of saving their souls, but of lining their purse?’
Certain points do not require explanation. If there was questionable security within the walls of Pont-Saint-Esprit there was none at all out in the open against a superior foe. It took no leap for men who were themselves greedy to see the attraction of a chase designed to strip the Great Company of all that it had acquired, and it did not need to be the whole host in pursuit; any major portion of such an army would be difficult to confront.
Baldwin was still in favour of departure and he took the lead for the others who shared his thinking. ‘Which means that if we are to depart we must do so before they are fully formed.’
‘Anyone desirous of an immediate departure may of course do so,’ Cunradus responded, ‘as long as they recall the terms to which they appended their mark.’
That too required no elucidation; the monk was saying you may go but by contract you leave behind you your share of what spoils have been gathered, something no band would accept, regardless of the strength of their leader. One other point was as well made too by their leader: for security they must act as one or not at all.
‘To take with us what we have garnered will oblige us to strip out half the carts in the Comtat Venaissin and that means slow progress. Ask yourself this. In possession of such knowledge and able to ride down your enemies what would you do?’
‘Take the treasure and take the life of every man who had owned it.’
This piece of obvious sense from Leofrick caused both wonder and agreement, which was naturally followed with the concomitant conclusion. The company had more chance of survival and hanging on to what they had plundered by staying put rather than seeking to flee and slowly Baldwin and his ilk were won round. That accepted there was a great deal to do; the Comtat Venaissin still had much to yield, for in previous outings there had always been left with their victims enough to bring on recovery, a future source of plunder.
That changed; knowing time was short, the brigades went out to create a desert around their stronghold, burning that which they could not carry off as well as manor houses and peasant dwellings. Vines and olive trees were cut down; local notables and high churchmen who had not had the sense to flee to Avignon were hunted down and taken in chains to the vaults of St Saturnin, there to reside as tokens with which to bargain.
Scouting parties were out continually to report on the growing threat, detailing the number of encampments springing up around the papal capital as well as by which banners they were occupied. Such information provided sobering reflection. There were bodies of lances from half of France, many parts of Germany and even a small number from Italy, especially the Papal States surrounding Rome.
Such intelligence gathering remained a constant until the day came when the papal host moved. With Pont-Saint-Esprit no more than three days distant for a marching army, that meant it was time to call in the bands, drive in the livestock and the last supplies, set fire to that which could not be carried in time, drop the portcullis and man the walls.
With all of that inside, plus the Great Company in its entirety, Pont-Saint-Esprit seemed ready to burst. The sounds of lowing and bleating were not confined to the animals; many a citizen saw only a horrible death as their future, either at the hands of their occupiers or those trying to overcome them. The sounds of endless praying mingled with the rasp of metal on stone, as weapons were sharpened in readiness for battle.
The first sign of the enemy was their huge papal banner, with the image of St Michael blazoned upon it, as they approached the eastern end of the Rhone Bridge. Hawkwood was on the walls with his archers, willing them to attempt a quick crossing. He knew, as did his confrères, that the assault would not just come from one direction; the river level was low now, the run of the water slow, and boats would be ferrying soldiers and their horses across the river to the north and south, to surround Pont-Saint-Esprit and cut it off with the aim of bringing on starvation.
‘I pray they have enough arrogance to think us supine,’ he whispered to Gold, as ever by his side, thou
gh now tall enough to need to bend his head slightly to address his captain. ‘They will not if they have heard there are English bowmen here.’
‘They will fear the Welsh more, John Hawkwood.’
Ivor the Axe called this out, loud enough to be heard by all; he was fiercely proud of the ability of his countrymen with the bow and often given to stating that without the Welsh having invented it, no Englishman would know of its existence, never mind its quality. As ever, his assertion was hotly disputed.
‘Since when did a Welshman have the wit to invent?’ called Alard the Radish, to loud agreement from his own kind. ‘I have looked in an ear of your countrymen many a time, Ivor, and seen daylight clear on the other side.’
‘Not daylight, Alard – divine light, happen. There’s naught in an English head but straw, and damp it will be too.’
‘Let us set that aside for now,’ Hawkwood insisted, for these were well-worn jokes. ‘Baldwin’s lances need us to give support.’
The men mentioned had occupied the stone tollbooth and had also built a barrier to the open side in order to deny the enemy the bridge. They had with them half a dozen crossbowmen, not reckoned to be any use at all by their longbow comrades given the time needed to reload such a weapon, added to the fact that it required two men to carry it out. In the same minute a man on a longbow could launch a dozen arrows, which, if they could not penetrate armour at long range, were so disruptive it was considered equal.
There was one great difference here: there would be no essaying out from the defence to seek to kill or maim men whose horse had fallen to Hawkwood’s archers, whatever their weapon. Baldwin’s men were there to hold as long as possible, which would not outlast the crossings being made on other parts of the river, a manoeuvre that would inevitably cut them off.
