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

for the raid. I hope you have not rebuked Sir John Grey and Sir Richard Percy.’

‘Do you think rebuking them would have made the slightest difference to their behaviour?’ asked Warwick. ‘The king has shown us your report from the following day.’

Merrivale raised his eyebrows. ‘I was not certain that he had read it.’

‘He has read it, and he takes it very seriously. Something will happen at Poissy, you said. What?’

‘I don’t know, my lord. The demoiselle overheard the Count of Alençon say this to one of his officers, the Seigneur de Brus. That is all she knows.’

Rowton looked at the bridge. ‘Surely it is obvious,’ he said. ‘The French knew that if they blocked or broke down each bridge in turn, we would eventually arrive at Poissy. Assuming we cannot cross the river, and with the king still unwilling to sanction a retreat to Caen, we would have no choice but to stand and fight. This is where they intend to give battle.’

He looked at Northampton and Warwick. ‘Was his Highness by any chance right? Could we offer battle with any real hope of success?’

Northampton shook his head. ‘Reluctantly, Eustace, I must agree with you. The men are tired, and apart from a few companies like Grey and Percy’s, they are in no condition to give battle. And the terrain is flat, with no defensive features. The enemy would roll over us.’

‘Which undoubtedly has been their plan all along,’ Rowton said. ‘I said as much to the king, but he wouldn’t listen. Now all we can do is pray that Master Hurley can finish the bridge before the French army arrives on our doorstep.’

‘Oh, we’re all doing that,’ Warwick said. ‘The Bishop of Durham and his priests are in the priory right now, rubbing their knees raw while they pray to the Virgin and every saint in the calendar. But even if we do finish the bridge on time, it is still a hell of a long way to Flanders and safety. And don’t forget, gentlemen, before we reach Flanders, there is still another great river to cross. The Somme.’

Poissy, 15th of August, 1346

Late morning

‘Is there any word on Nicodemus?’ the herald asked. ‘Has he been seen?’

Mauro and Warin both shook their heads. ‘We have spoken to men from nearly every retinue in the army, señor,’ Mauro said. ‘We did not speak to Sir Edward de Tracey’s men, for I do not think they would tell me the truth. But all the others, even some of Holland’s men.’

‘I also called at the royal kitchen this morning,’ Warin said. ‘I wasn’t very welcome, because they’re all running about like chickens without heads, preparing for the feast this afternoon. But I wanted to know if Nicodemus had approached Curry or Master Clerebaud.’

‘And had he?’

Warin shook his head again. ‘No one has seen Nicodemus, or is prepared to admit it. I did learn one thing, though, from one of the scullions. Master Clerebaud has recently lost a lot of money at dice. He is deeply in debt.’

The herald considered this, wondering what it meant, if anything. ‘With whom does he gamble?’

‘No one knows, sir. He slips out pretty much every night, once they’ve cleaned up the kitchen. Only he didn’t go last night because they were already hard at work preparing for the feast.’

‘The enemy is at hand, food is running out, and your king has ordered a feast?’ Tiphaine asked.

Today was the feast day of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin; along with Lammas, it was the most important celebration of the summer. ‘It is a symbol,’ Merrivale said. ‘To sit down and feast with the enemy gathering in Paris a few miles away shows the army that he is in control. Rather than rush to cross the river by any means possible, abandoning our baggage, we will wait until the bridge is repaired and then cross in an orderly fashion.’

‘And you agree with this?’

‘As it happens, I do. In times of crisis, the leader must present a calm face to his men. If he is frightened or worried, he must never show it.’

Tiphaine looked dubious. ‘I think I would prefer to rush, and get away. But then I am not a king. Or a herald.’

‘You may go if you wish,’ he said gently.

‘Are you going?’

‘My duty is here. I am bidden to attend the feast along with the prince.’

Her chin came up. ‘If you stay, then I stay.’

‘There is one other thing that may be of interest, señor,’ said Mauro. ‘Nicodemus has vanished, but some of Tracey’s men are continuing to buy plunder. There has been plenty of spoil in the rich towns and abbeys we have passed. They are still making a great deal of money.’

Silence fell. The herald stared out across the fields towards Paris, where the smoke of yesterday’s fires still drifted in the air. The other three glanced at each other. ‘What are you thinking?’ Tiphaine asked.

‘I was right. Nicodemus is here. Warin, find Sir John Grey and Sir Richard Percy. Give them my compliments and ask them to turn out their men. Describe Nicodemus to them and ask them to search the camp from top to bottom. Check the baggage train in particular, any place where he might hide. Demoiselle, will you please find Sir Nicholas Courcy and ask him to meet me at the palace? Are Matt and Pip here?’

Warin motioned towards the two archers leaning on their bows thirty yards away. Merrivale turned to them. ‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘You too, Mauro. I may have need of you.’

Poissy, 15th of August, 1346

Midday

Coloyne, the yeoman of the kitchen, met them looking worried. ‘What is this about, herald? The feast begins in an hour’s time and we have much work to do.’

The royal cooks had established themselves in the palace kitchen. Fires roared on the hearths and pots bubbled and boiled, while outside men in bloody aprons butchered beef and mutton carcasses and prepared them for cooking. From the chapel