A Flight of Arrows A.J. MacKenzie (black authors fiction TXT) 📖

‘God’s teeth! Where did you get that?’

‘Never you mind. The document is hidden in the Logis du Roi, and I will ensure Edward’s clerks discover it tomorrow morning. By midday, the whole army will know about it. Edward will go up in flames, and even if he doesn’t, the barons and knights will. And then they will march straight out to confront Philip.’

‘Fifteen thousand men against the entire French royal army? They won’t have a prayer.’

‘That’s not how they see it. After the fall of Caen, the hot-brains think they are invincible. And, of course, we shall continue to stir up trouble between the knights.’

‘And King Philip? What do we do about him?’

‘Nothing, for the moment. But once he has won his victory, we will undermine him in turn. That is where the Queen of Navarre and the cardinals come in. Especially Aubert. He is the key man.’

‘What about the others?’

‘Not yet. We will bring them in when the time is right. For the moment, we still have work to do.’

Caen, 27th of July, 1346

Midday

‘The king is busy,’ Lord Rowton said, a little abruptly. ‘What did you want?’

‘It was his Grace who summoned me, my lord.’ The message had come that morning, a single line in Northburgh’s writing and sealed with the privy seal.

Rowton made an impatient gesture. ‘Yes, I had forgotten. He wanted to discuss your latest report, the one you sent to Northburgh last night. But I’m afraid he won’t be able to see you now.’

They were in the courtyard of the Logis du Roi. Voices could be heard inside, shouting and arguing.

‘Has something happened, my lord?’

Rowton paused for a moment, then shrugged. ‘Everyone will know soon enough. One of the royal clerks found a document in the palace this morning. It purports to be some sort of French plan for the conquest of England, complete with provisions for forcing the king to abdicate and seizing the lands of the English nobility.’

‘I see. And the nobility are angry about this.’

‘The nobility have taken leave of their senses,’ Rowton said angrily. ‘They want to ride to Rouen and challenge the French royal army to do battle. Warwick and Northampton and I, and young John Grey, are trying to talk them around.’ A fresh outburst of shouting erupted inside the building. ‘But I fear they are not listening.’

Merrivale frowned. ‘Is this document genuine, my lord?’

‘Who knows? It’s either a forgery or some half-baked idea that the adversary never seriously considered putting into practice. Either way, we are letting ourselves be gulled.’

‘What does his Grace say?’

‘He is angry too, understandably so. But he also knows that you can only lead men where they already want to go. If we merely stand fast now and defend the gains we have won – which, from the point of view of military logic, is exactly what we should do – his prestige will suffer. The men are spoiling for a fight. They are thinking with their hearts, not their heads.’

Rowton shook his head. ‘However. To come back to your report. You mentioned some connection with the death of the king’s father. I should drop that if I were you.’

‘May I ask why, my lord?’

‘Because the king doesn’t want to hear it. The past is the past, dead and buried. His Grace even thinks it is possible that his father didn’t die at all, but was helped to escape after he signed the letter of abdication.’

I remember the noise he made in his throat, struggling for breath. ‘That seems unlikely,’ Merrivale said.

‘I would have said impossible. Nevertheless, I think you should let it lie.’

‘I will, my lord. But may I ask one question? Did you know Sir John Bray was present at Berkeley Castle the day the old king died?’

Rowton paused for a long time. ‘I did,’ he said finally. ‘But he had no part in the king’s death. After that night, Bray stayed out of sight. He remained on his own lands and took no part in life at court. That was my advice to him: keep your head down, and let everyone forget you. It worked, too.’

‘Until Edmund Bray joined the Prince of Wales’s household,’ Merrivale said. ‘At which point, all those rivalries and animosities broke surface again. He had quarrelled with Holland and Despenser even before we sailed from Portchester. Mortimer and Gurney have been dragged in too.’

‘What are you saying, herald?’

‘Someone is trying to drive wedges into this army, my lord, in order to split it apart. I think the same person, or people, is behind the murder of Edmund Bray.’

They looked at each other in silence for a moment. ‘Is there any word of the fate of Brother Geoffrey?’ the herald asked.

‘Not yet. Andrew Clarenceux is at the castle, trying to parley with Bertrand and his brother the bishop, but they refuse to answer. As soon as we do get a response, I will see that you are informed.’

14

Caen, 30th of July, 1346

Afternoon

‘Nicodemus is now buying plundered goods from nearly every company in the army,’ Mauro said. ‘He also buys from archers and men-at-arms in the prince’s own retinue. Only two companies refuse to do business with him.’

Tiphaine sat quietly in a corner of the tent, listening. ‘One will be the Red Company,’ Merrivale said.

Mauro nodded. ‘The other is Lord Rowton’s retinue. His lordship has forbidden his men to plunder and threatened dire punishments for any who sell stolen goods to Nicodemus. The word is that he wants them to be more professional, after the example of the Red Company.’

‘I wish some of the other captains would do the same,’ Merrivale said. ‘Anything else?’

‘Yes, señor. Nicodemus also visits the royal kitchens. He has been there twice in the last three days.’

It had been four days since the battle of Caen, during which time the rich and powerful city had been stripped to the walls. The great market halls had been emptied and private houses ransacked of everything they contained: gold and silver