by David Gilman
‘I do as I see best, my Prince,’ Blackstone said, watching Edward’s movements as he made a barely noticeable gesture and a nod of his head to no one in particular, but it was enough for a knight in full armour and a groom on the periphery of the square to take hold of a pack horse’s bridle and begin its swayback gait towards them.
‘Then make sure that you continue to do so,’ the Prince said and carried on, indicating that he did not expect a response. ‘Did you know we have given the wool Staple to Calais, that our Flemish allies to the north are almost within hailing distance? Their looms hum with trade from the wool off our sheep’s backs. It makes no difference whether you do or not, Thomas, there was strategic and political importance in holding this town.’
Blackstone saw that the approaching knight and groom wore the royal livery, so whatever was packed onto that palfrey had something to do with the Prince’s household.
‘And hold it we did. And you would have stood alone in our name had we not known of the plot to throw open the gates. Your action deserves to be honoured. And Thomas, you are making a habit of this!’
The rebuke seemed genuine and Blackstone bowed his head.
‘We jest. For God’s sake, Thomas, we are not an ogre, we are your Prince and we value you. Did they cut away your English humour at Crécy as well as your face?’ he said, and with another flick of his wrist the knight responded by taking something from the side of the horse. He held up a plain woven surcoat, its sanguine dye as rich as blood. The outline of a shield was sewn onto the left breast and it bore the black stitched image of Wolf Sword, pommel and grip distinct above the curved-down crossguard. The narrowing blade was held in a gauntleted fist. Blackstone remembered meeting his Prince’s eyes across the sword when both men grasped its blade before the battle.
‘If you are to be known as other than that face of yours then you need a coat of arms. Our King thought this appropriate,’ he said and nodded to the groom to give it to Blackstone.
‘There are sufficient to clothe your ruffians, and more for those who will no doubt seek you out. And five hundred pounds a year will come from the treasury to sustain your efforts,’ he said.
The honour had surprised and embarrassed Blackstone and he stuttered his gratitude.
‘You are too generous, lord.’
‘Yes. We know. But honouring you reflects well on us. We bathe in the warmth of your name and success – and we would wish it were more fragrant,’ he said and smiled.
Impatiently he looked to the groom, who fumbled with something on the blind side of the horse. The knight quickly took over and unlaced a shield. The Prince stepped forward and took it from him. He turned the shield and the same blazon of sword and gauntlet faced Blackstone.
‘We chose the motto ourself,’ he said. ‘You were close to death that night, and yet you would not yield to it. The King, our father, uttered the words that you were defiant unto death.’
Blackstone looked at the words written beneath the gauntlet: Défiant à la Mort.
He took the shield from Prince Edward’s hands.
‘Thomas, go home and stay alive; we will have need of you again. Now show your men their coat of arms.’
Blackstone hooked his bent arm into the shield and raised it to his men.
They saw it and roared their pleasure.
‘Thomas,’ the Prince beckoned, and spoke a few final words despite the deafening cheers that the crowd now saw fit to share.
Blackstone rejoined his men as the Prince’s entourage left the city gates. Within the hour, wearing their new coat of arms, they clattered across the drawbridge. The solemn look on Blackstone’s scarred face prompted Meulon to question him.
‘We’ve been honoured, Sir Thomas. Have no regrets about the men we lost – they look down on us and share our pride. They’re beyond harm and our time has yet to come. Is that such a bad thing?’
Blackstone remained silent as they drew away from the citadel.
‘Did your Prince chastise you for killing de Vitry? Is that what happened?’
‘Killing de Vitry was little more than an inconvenience to him. And we’ll mourn the men in our own way. No, what the Prince told me was that King Philip and his son John, Duke of Normandy, have quarrelled. Some of the Norman lords will side with him and no matter who becomes the strongest they’ll want revenge against those of us who stay and fight here.’
Behind them wind-filled sails pushed the Prince’s ship towards England as Blackstone spurred the horse forward and galloped for home.
THE END
Historical Notes
When King Edward III invaded France – a country twice as large, far wealthier and more densely populated than his own – it was the leading military power in the West. Edward’s army, men from poor families as well as members of the nobility, had opportunities to secure wealth and status through plunder and ransom – if they survived the savagery of battle. But what happened to those men once these great battles had been fought and they were discharged from service? Their skills were in high demand by those who had no armies of their own – most notably the Italian city-states. Before they reached the Italian paymasters they had to have proved themselves in warfare, and it was the lead-up to the day when these hardened men were contracted that I wanted to explore, and discover how a humble boy from an English village could become a Master of War. I discovered that many independent captains who fought as mercenaries would have themselves knighted by their fellow routiers. But there were some men from a lowly station in life who were honoured because of their bravery and who seemed to have a natural talent for war. And I set Thomas Blackstone off on his journey so that he could earn such honour.
English and Welsh bowmen dominated King Edward’s major battles in the fourteenth century. Young men practised at their village butts, a unique army, trained for service in war, that could not be matched by any other European monarch. One such young man was Thomas Blackstone, who would overcome his fear of killing and the terror of a heavy cavalry charge in battle, and whose courage would create an opportunity for recognition that went beyond the usual reward of war booty.
To begin my acquaintance with that violent period I reached for my well-worn copy of Barbara W. Tuchman’s A Distant Mirror. The brutality of the age and, in particular, the appalling savagery of its mercenaries made it difficult to find any redeeming features for Blackstone. At that time there was a great desire to behave in a chivalrous manner, especially for those of noble rank, but a knight’s word of honour to a peasant counted for nothing. Chivalric endeavour was an insistent ghost from the days of old, most notably the Arthurian legends and The Song of Roland, the mid-twelfth-century heroic poem that celebrated the deeds of Charlemagne. The sheer demands of fighting and the necessities of war usually swept away any semblance of compassion. Despite going to war to gain riches and honour and carrying the ideal of chivalrous behaviour, prisoners were massacred, churches pillaged and women raped.
But many of the knightly classes and nobility were literate and accomplished in poetry and courtship, so perhaps there was a chink in their armour. There were instances where courtly and gentle manners won the day – especially with women. A routier, Andrew Belmont, fell in love while serving in Italy and stopped the destruction of the town where his beloved lived.
Modern society can barely comprehend the privations and culture of a contemporary army at war, so a true grasp of the experience of those who fought in a medieval conflict can lie only in our imagination. It was a cruel and savage time. Children were working at hard physical labour by the age of seven. The offspring of craftsmen might be apprenticed if there was money to pay the master whose skills were to be acquired. A boy of noble birth would be sent to another family and trained as a page from the time he was nine years old and then, from his early teens, would serve as a knight’s esquire, already trained in swordsmanship. Men-at-arms, strapped into sixty to eighty pounds of armour, could fight for hours on end in hand-to-hand combat, which might seem
superhuman to us today, but the medieval capacity for absorbing and shrugging off pain appears to have been extraordinary. One knight who had his helm and nose pierced by a crossbow bolt, which stayed embedded in his face, fought on, suffering some ‘discomfort’ each time a blow was delivered against him that struck the offending quarrel. The medieval man’s strength and endurance is unlikely to be replicated today. There are accounts of knights, clad in full armour, who could somersault, and run and leap into the saddle of a war horse.
Many of the events in Master of War took place. There are few names known of the common men who fought during that invasion, but two archers who are recorded, Henry Torpoleye and Richard Whet, fell during the street fighting at Caen. Few incidents of resistance from the local peasants against the heavily armed English and Welsh invaders are recorded, but one such event took place at the village of Cormalain when English troops sheltered in a barn. That night locals blocked its entrance and burned it down. The troops suffocated and died – an event I used and which resulted (in the story) in the execution of young John Nightingale.
King Edward’s son, Prince Edward of Woodstock, fought as a sixteen-year-old in the vanguard at the Battle of Crécy. He had experienced commanders at his side, but his youth, like many of the common men in the ranks, was no impediment to his aggressive defence of his position. He would later be known as the Black Prince, but that sobriquet did not appear until several centuries after the events in this book. The two most decisive battles fought against the French, which gave the English prestige, wealth and territory, were Crécy and Poitiers. The English and Welsh archers inflicted arguably an even greater defeat on French nobility at Crécy than at Agincourt nearly seventy years later. The killing field at Crécy meant that the flower of French knighthood faced a terrifying storm of arrows that fell at sixteen thousand a minute – nearly three hundred per second.
Medieval women of the nobility had clearly defined roles to play but there were some remarkable women who shouldered the whole burden of being the heads of their households when their husbands were killed in war. One such stalwart was Blanche de Ponthieu, a noblewoman in her own right, and married to Jean V, Count of Harcourt. The Harcourts of France played a dangerous game. The family was divided between those who supported the French King and those who did not. History records that after recovering from his wounds suffered at Crécy, Jean became embroiled in a plot to kill, or at least replace, the King.
The outcome of this conspiracy forms a turning point for Thomas Blackstone in the second book of this series – The Savage Priest.
As Castle d’Harcourt – to use the correct French spelling – itself plays quite a substantial role in Master of War I include a link to a few photos I took during my research trip: http://ven.so/masterofwarphotos.
Historical novelists, in particular, are dependent on many fine scholars whose diligent research and knowledge allow an author to place his characters in a more vivid setting than would otherwise be possible. I acquired (or, as a routier, plundered) many historical articles for this novel, but continually returned to an informed and brilliant work that covers the Hundred Years War, Jonathan Sumption’s Trial by Battle and its companion volume, Trial by Fire. It’s a work of enormous appeal and information and is possibly the most comprehensible account of the war. The Road to Crécy, a more recent book by Marilyn Livingstone and Morgen Witzel, is an excellent read and an invaluable source of information. The two authors list more names of those who fought in the invasion and their book gives an insight into the day-to-day conditions experienced by Edward’s army, from food and logistics to weaponry. Its narrative history gives a very vivid and close-up account of what happened from pre-invasion to the Battle of Crécy. I first discovered the brilliance and courage of King Edward III in Ian Mortimer’s The Perfect King. This author offers a wonderful portrait of one of England’s greatest founders. There are contentious, though fascinating, issues discussed in his book that fell outside the scope of research required for Master of War.
For personal weapons of combat, and especially in determining the origin of Wolf Sword, I turned to Ewart Oakeshott and two of his books: A Knight and his Weapons and, more particularly, The Sword in the Age of Chivalry (revised edition). When it came to understanding that most lethal weapon on the field of battle – the war bow used by the English and Welsh archers – there were many articles available, but the book Longbow – A Social and Military History, by the actor and author Robert Hardy, is probably the definitive work on the subject.
Medieval surgical procedures were taken from various articles, most notably from the Annals of The Royal College of Surgeons of England. The Great Pestilence that became known as the Black Death is a fascinating study in itself and I can recommend that any interested readers or researchers pick up a copy of The Black Death by Philip Ziegler.
Wherever I have deviated from any expert’s view it is either from choice, to allow me to tell the story the way I wish to tell it, or because, at times, the experts themselves offer different explanations of events that took place.
David Gilman
Devonshire
2013
Acknowledgements
I owe a special thanks to Nic Cheetham and his unstinting enthusiasm for Master of War. Creating two novels from the first draft, at his suggestion, was a huge undertaking, but everyone at Head of Zeus has been most generous in their praise and support for this book and the following series. I am extremely pleased to be part of their new venture. My friend, and ‘unofficial’ editor, James McFarlane, is a stalwart commentator whose considerate suggestions improve my efforts.
As always a huge thank-you to my tireless literary agent, Isobel Dixon, and everyone at Blake Friedmann Literary Agency.
David Gilman
Devonshire, England
www.davidgilman.com
Follow me: @davidgilmanuk
About this Book
ENGLAND, 1346
Amid the carnage of the 100 Years’ War – the bloodiest conflict in medieval history – a young English archer confronts his destiny.
For Thomas Blackstone the choice is easy – dance on the end of a rope for a murder he did not commit, or take up his war bow and join the king’s invasion.
As he fights his way across northern France, Blackstone learns the brutal lessons of war – from the terror and confusion of his first taste of combat, to the savage realities of siege warfare.
Vastly outnumbered, Edward III’s army will finally confront the armoured might of the French nobility on the field of Crécy. It is a battle that will change the history of warfare, a battle that will change the course of Blackstone’s life, a battle that will forge a legend.
Reviews
“The 100 Years’ War is the new Rome for historical adventure novels” —Ben Kane
About the Author
DAVID GILMAN had a varied career including firefighter, soldier and marketing manager, before turning to writing full time. He is an award-winning author and screenwriter and for a decade was a principal writer for A Touch of Frost.
You can contact him via his website, www.davidgilman.com
A Letter from the Publisher
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HeadofZeusBooks
Dedicated to great storytelling
First published in the UK in 2013 by Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © David Gilman, 2013
The moral right of David Gilman to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright,
Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (eBook) 9781781852941
ISBN (HB) 9781781850107
ISBN (XTPB) 9781781850114
Head of Zeus Ltd
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Contents
Cover
Welcome Page
Dedication
Part 1: The Blooding
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Part 2: Wolf Sword
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Part 3: Sworn Lord
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
