by John Daines
After the old woman had left them John told Tristan of his idea.
”If we tie the covers together from both beds it will lower us enough to drop without hurting ourselves.” “That’s if we can get through the hole,” said Tristan.
“I am sure we can, but we will need some food so don’t eat all the next two meals and then we will go,” said John as he put some bread in a bag.
When the old women brought their food in the morning John asked for more bread as they were hungry midday, after a lot of muttering under her breath she came back with the bread and some cheese. They were about to go down to the garden when two guards arrived and looked around their rooms, fortunately Tristan had just made use of the guarderobe and the smell prevented them looking in there. They stood by the door as an officer of the guards came in and told them there had been no reply from Sir Cedric so they were to be transferred to a larger prison in two days time. When they had all gone John said to Tristan.
“We go tonight.”
Tristan nodded and wished he had not used the guarderobe.
As the sun set that evening the two men prepared to make their escape, they tied the bed covers together and with their possessions in their bags they moved into the guarderobe. They had changed into their oldest clothes, and put their only change of clothes into the bag. Tying the bed covers to the table they jammed it in the doorway and lowered them through the enlarged hole.
“Not far to the ground as far as I can see,” said John.
“You go first, then if you break your neck I’ll stay here,” said Tristan, with a grin.
John lowered himself into the hole, it was a tight fit but with a little wriggling he was soon hanging on the makeshift rope and descending hand over hand. Reaching the end of the covers he looked down, he pushed himself off from the wall, took a breath and let go. He landed on the edge of the soft muck that lay at the foot of the wall and gave a tug on the covers for Tristan to follow. As expected they were messy but not as bad as they could have been. They stood at the waters edge and removed their clothes and washed themselves as best as they could, putting on their fresh clothes they ran along the base of the wall for a few yards and John said.
“From what I could gather from the occasional talks with the old woman, we need to cross the river.”
Tristan asked, “How far across is it?”
“This is one of the narrow parts but it is quite deep near the Castle. Tie your boots to your bag and let’s get on with it,”said John.
“Wait, what is that up ahead?” asked Tristan.
They crept along the wall until they came to the end of the Castle and found a garden fence with a gate and tied to a stake was a small boat.
“There are no oars,” said John. “We will have to use our hands.”
Untying the boat they clambered in. Pushing away from the bank and moving into midstream the current took them and they were soon out of sight of the Castle. Going round a bend in the river they drifted to the side and paddling with their hands they made it to the shore. They had landed near a small wood so made their way into the wood to find a place to rest until daybreak. Sitting round a small fire, trying to keep warm, they discussed what they should do next. There would be a hue and cry in the morning when it is discovered they had escaped and the river would be searched so they needed to get away as far as they could.
“I think we should split up,” said John. “You go north and try to find a boat for England, I will go back to the Chateaux and recover our belongings and make my way back with Alban. This should confuse them for a while as it is not what they will expect.”
“What about your Sword?” said Tristan. “It is too precious to leave in their hands!”
“I know,” replied John, smiling inwardly.
Tristan firmly believed that the sword had magical powers. There were many objects that purported to have mystical powers and many Knights spent years searching for them but John came from a family that had a strong faith and their feet on the ground, however John wanted to recover the sword, his father had made it and he was a better swordsman with that particular blade in his hand. As the early light filtered through the trees John and Tristan parted, Tristan heading north and John west towards Brittany.
John cut himself a stout staff and made good progress the first few days. He was approaching Alencon when he remembered the English had been driven out of this region, he wondered if his French would arouse suspicion. John’s beard had grown and he was dishevelled in appearance so he hoped that if he mumbled he would be able to impersonate a tramp. That night he found a stable and covered himself with straw to keep warm, he was awakened with the sound of hammering. He had spent the night in a stable attached to a Smithy and the Smith was preparing some horse shoes. John cleaned himself up as best as he could and walked into the Smithy.
“Good morning sir,” he said to the Smith. “Is there anything I can do to earn a breakfast?”
The startled Smith turned and looked at him. “Where did you come from, sleeping in my barn were you? You can feed the horses and clean them out, and bring me some water from that well.”
John fetched the water and then went to the horses, the Smith called to him to bring the black one to the forge. John brought the horse in and stood stroking his muzzle and talking quietly to it.
“You like horses?” asked the Smith.
“You’ll want him quiet if you are going to shoe him,” answered John.
“Know about shoeing horses do you?”said the Smith.
“A little,” said John.
“Get the old shoe off while I bring the new one over.”
John lifted the horses leg between his knees and pulled out the old nails and the shoe dropped to the floor, he picked up a file and prepared the hoof to receive the new shoe. The Smith brought the new shoe over and placed it on the hoof. There was a pungent smell as the shoe marked the hoof.
“Good fit,” said John as the Smith hammered the shoe to a more perfect fit and then cooled it in the bucket and handed it to John who nailed it on.
“You have done this many times before,” accused the Smith. “How is it you are not working?”
“I am making my way to see my family and have been robbed,” answered John. “They took my horse and all my belongings so I am making my way on foot.”
“Where are you making for?” asked the Smith.
“Near to Rennes,” said John.
“You might be in luck, finish these horses and we’ll talk over breakfast. My name is William,” and the Smith offered his hand.
“Henri,” said John extending his.
They finished the work and went inside the Smith’s cottage where his wife cooked up a plentiful meal. The Smith said to John, as he sat back.
“I have a relative in Fougeres and I look after his horses and his carts. The bay mare is his and I have been repairing his cart. If you would deliver these to his farm you would not be far from Rennes. My lad will go with you as there is another cart to bring back, and it will be company for you.”
Someone to keep an eye on me too thought John. He was relieved to think that he would not have to walk all the way and this would be a good disguise. Three days later John said his farewells to William and set off for Fougeres and William’s cousin. He was only a few miles from Alencon when they were stopped by a contingent of French soldiers who told him they were looking for two escaped prisoners, they questioned them and then rode on. It took him several days to reach William’s cousin in Fougeres, camping overnight in the cart. William’s cousin was a large hearty farmer who welcomed John and said he must stay the night and his son would take him to Chateaux Vent in the morning. John was woken at first light and they were quickly on their way, the horse greeted him with a whiney as an old friend. William’s son talked about the farm, the land, the problems in the region and the fact there might be a fight, John did not have to say much at all. When they reached the gates of the Chateaux John thanked the lad and said he would wa
lk up to the house. He went round to the back and found Alban coming out of the stables leading Hammer. Alban started back in surprise and said, “What do you want, we have no work at the moment so be off with you?”
Hammer snorted and made straight for John, Alban tried to hold him but the big horse was too strong for him. When he reached John his large head came down to nuzzled John.
“Hello big boy,” said John. “Have you missed me, I am very glad to see you.”
Alban realised who it was and stopped trying to pull Hammer away.
After they had greeted each other John said he wanted to go to speak to Monsieur Trouville and he would tell Alban the full story later. Sitting down after a meal John told them what had befallen Tristan and himself. Alban could not believe it but Monsieur Trouville said he was not surprised as many of the French knights had become poor due to funding their armies and then loosing their battles and not gaining any spoils.
After John had rested and had his beard cut shorter he looked through the weapons they had and picked a sword that felt reasonable but not like his own. He practiced with Alban and was still a good fighter but he missed the balance and speed he had with his own blade. They prepared to leave the Chateaux and John decided to go back to the Castle where he had been imprisoned, Alban was not keen on the idea but John wanted to find out if Monsieur le Corbeau had returned.
“They will not recognise you when you go to enquire, and I doubt that they will recognise me with my new beard, but I will wait out of sight.”
Alban was still not convinced. Monsieur Trouville’s eldest son, Jacque, persuaded his father to let him go with them to give them credibility as French travellers should they need it, a decision that would prove invaluable later. They set out with John riding Hammer, Alban on his own horse leading a pack horse with John’s armour and the rest of their baggage, Jacque on a stallion with another packhorse. They were in high spirits as the little convoy headed off towards Paris. As they neared Alencon John said he would call on the Smith and pay his respects for the way he was treated. William came out into the yard as they clattered in on the cobbles, he looked up at John sitting on the great horse
“What can I do for you sir?” he asked.
John dismounted and replied. “You can accept my grateful thanks for helping me, and we have brought your cousin’s son to meet you.”
William stood back in amazement and then clasped John by the arm and said.
“After you had gone we had soldiers here looking for an escaped prisoner but I knew nothing. I did wonder if that tramp I hired was not what he seemed.”
They all laughed and William invited them in to partake of a jug of wine where John told him the story of what had happened. That night they camped in a field behind the Smithy, moving on in the morning towards Paris. It was a gloomy and rain filled day as they approached the Castle and John could see a pennant flying from the battlements, did it mean that Le Corbeau wasat home? John asked Jacque to go to the Castle talk to the guards and see what he could pick up. When Jacque returned he said that the Count was away fighting in Flanders.
They packed up and moved towards Flanders and as they neared the borders they met many wounded retreating from the battle front. John spoke to a nobleman who was lying on a stretcher and attended by servants. The man was quite angry at what he perceived as poor command of the battles, he told John that they had been fighting for land south of Ghent when they were attacked from the rear by a different Flemish Duke’s men. He was determined to see the King and bring the French army together and attack Flanders in a full scale war. John thought to himself that he must find le Corbeau before that happened or he would be trapped here for a long campaign. Soon after they crossed the border they came across a small town that had grown up near a monastery, there were several men at arms walking up the slope to the monastery some wounded and most looking tired. John found an Inn that suddenly had room for them when they heard John was English. After settling their horses they enjoyed their first home cooked meal since they had left Brittany. John asked the landlord where the wounded men had come from.
“They are the defeated French from a battle just a few leagues from here.”
John immediately wondered if Le Corbeau would be there. He suggested he and Alban take a stroll round the town before turning in.
“We might pick up some information,” he said.
There were not many lights in the street and as they came out of the Inn they nearly fell over two soldiers supporting a third who had been wounded. Speaking in French John asked them who was their commander and was told the Duke de Salpetriere, he recognised the name as being near the Castle they had been imprisoned in.
“I am sure that is Le Corbeau.”
Alban looked mystified as John had spoken in French but one of the soldiers said.
“That’s him, it’s a name he got as a young man, he collected sparkling and pretty things.”
“Yes, and he did’t pay for them either,” said the other man.
John wished them good night and continued his walk.
Dawn was just breaking as John woke his two companions, there was a white frost outside and they shivered as they dressed. Alban went down to prepare the horses, Jacque packed their belongings and John paid a sleepy landlord. They moved off in the direction the wounded men had come from, there was no one else about at this hour and their journey was undisturbed until the sun began to rise and they came across a village that appeared to be full of Frenchmen. They made their way through a wood, keeping away from sentries until they had left the village behind. All was quiet, even the birds had forgotten to sing, they slowed their pace and kept a careful lookout. Suddenly a voice called out to them to halt and out of the trees came a group of Flemish Guards. John noticed they were also being covered by well placed crossbow men. They were escorted to a man clad in armour with a flowing cape. John explained their purpose and asked the nobleman if he had heard of the Frenchman.
“Oh yes, we know him,” he answered. “He likes to creep up on you and hit you from behind. He is probably skulking around here now. We came across him and his men last night but lost him in the darkness.”
John asked if he might join their detachment and was told he would be most welcome. The Flemish men soon made them welcome and wanted to know what part of England they were from, John explained that Jacque was a personal friend and not a spy. The nobleman introduced himself as Peter the Count of Kortrijt and said he knew Sir Cedric and had imported his wool. The men were preparing to advance towards the village that John had seen on his way and Peter suggested that they ride with him. John donned his armour and prepared Hammer, with Alban’s help. They moved off and John felt a thrill go through his body as he prepared for battle. They found the French had fortified the village, blocking the street with overturned carts and placing archers in the houses. Soon arrows were flying from both sides, John kept a look out for Le Corbeau but could not see him. The Count directed men to spread out and surround the Village the horsemen then formed together ready for a charge. A horn sounded and the charging horsemen made for the lowest end of the barricade, John felt Hammer’s muscles tense as he gathered himself and flew over the obstruction. They were soon into the cut and thrust of the melee, John kept looking for his quarry as Hammer bit, pushed and trampled his way through the throng. John sat high slashing with his sword and feeling it bite into flesh as he came through the first line. Still no sign of the Count and John spurred Hammer through the fighting men and into a clear space then he caught a glimpse of a man disappearing into a side street. John spurred Hammer after him and caught him as he tried to negotiate a cart that had been turned on its side.
“Fouchine, I have you, turn and fight me!”called John.
The Frenchman stopped and turn to face John, he kicked his horse and rode at John with his sword raised. They clashed and John parried the stroke but felt a shudder up his arm, they whirled and slashed their horses kicking up the dust when suddenly Hammer bit i
nto the neck of the smaller mount of Fouchine. This gave John the chance to drop low and thrust his sword into his opponents thigh, Fouchine gasped and dropped his guard giving John the opportunity to deliver a killing blow. The Baron tried to lift his sword to protect himself but the blade suddenly seemed to be too heavy and John’s blow struck home into Le Corbeau’s neck and he fell from his horse. John went to him and removed his helm but he could see the man was dying.
“The sword would not hurt you,” murmured Fouchine. “I could not lift it, it served me well until today but it knows to whom it really belongs…” and life passed from him.
John picked up the sword and felt the familiar balance in his hand, he almost thought the blade glowed but dismissed it as a natural pleasure in retrieving what was his. He mounted Hammer and rode back to the centre of the village where Peter was rounding up prisoners and ordering his men to search the village for stragglers.
“Count Fouchine is dead,” said John. “One less French Lord to worry about.”
Peter smiled and raised his hand in salute.
John found Alban and Jacque, who were unscathed, mainly because they had kept out of the way. They went back to the Flemish camp where celebrations were getting under way with plenty of ale and wine.
The following morning John and his friends said goodbye to Peter and departed, Jacque back home and John and Alban to the coast. John offered Jacque a position in his household but he said he would stay with his father so returned to Brittany. Alban and John made their way to Bruges where they found a ship going to Yarmouth and with some negotiation they managed to buy a berth for themselves and their horses. The sea crossing was uneventful save that Alban was not a good sailor and spent most of the crossing flat on his back. Reaching Yarmouth John made contact with the Mayor who was pleased to see him and offered rooms at his house. After a generous meal that evening he was eager to learn of events since he had been away, the mayor said that Gavin had visited him and that he sensed no problems at the Castle. The good news was the Shire was coming together and the farmers were beginning to see the results of the cooperation. John was eager to get home to his family but he owed the Mayor the courtesy of hearing him out. The sheering must have been successful as there had been more bales of wool passing through on their way to Flanders, the Mayor reported, but he also said that taxes had been increased. He did not know much of what was happening in London except there had been more warships than usual putting into Yarmouth for supplies and telling of several battles at sea against the French. John retired with his mind full of what the Mayor had told him and eager to get home and find out from Sir Cedric what was going on. His final thoughts before sleep took over was of Tania, French and Flemish girls could warm your bed for a night but there was no comparison to a wife’s love and affection.
