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

His arm was still strapped in its sling, now dirty with travel and fighting. ‘His Grace is right, of course. Spoiling for a fight? Christ, have you seen the men? We’ve marched thirty miles in two days since Poissy, and they’re exhausted. Their boots are wearing out, and we’re running low on flour and pottage. I tell you, this army is in no condition to give battle.’

‘I am inclined to agree, my lord. What is the latest news of the French?’

‘While we were at Poissy, the main body of their army moved to defend Paris as we assumed they would. But King Jean and his Bohemian troops remained at Saint-Denis, and they are already in pursuit. Philip and the main army are a day behind us now, but the Bohemians are closer, and they have fast light cavalry called panzerati that can make up the ground quickly. If the prince wants fighting, he is going to see plenty of it in the days to come.’

The shouting match ended as everyone knew it would; the prince throwing his arms in the air and stalking away in a fury, the king watching him with a small smile of satisfaction on his face. Around them the army streamed past in long columns, skirting the city and pressing on north.

‘May I have a moment of your time, my lord?’ Merrivale asked. ‘There is a rather delicate matter I wish to discuss with you.’

‘Is this to do with that unfortunate incident at Poissy?’

‘Yes, my lord. Something is rotten in Sir Edward de Tracey’s retinue. The deserter, Slade, killed the king’s sauce-maker and twice attempted to poison the food. I am certain that Clerebaud was corrupted by Nicodemus, and that Slade was also working to Nicodemus’s orders.’

‘Have you found Nicodemus yet?’

‘No, my lord, but the search by Grey and Percy’s company confirmed he is still with the army, probably in some sort of disguise. Unfortunately, I am no longer able to avail myself of their services.’ The Red Company were out on the army’s eastern flank, ready to ward off the expected attacks of the Bohemians; only Matt and Pip remained behind, continuing their vigil as the herald’s bodyguards.

‘What do you need from me?’ Rowton asked.

‘How much influence does Sir Edward de Tracey have with the king?’

By the look on his face, it was clear that Rowton had not been expecting the question. ‘How much do you think he has? His brother is the king’s banker, after all.’

‘I ask, my lord, because someone persuaded the king to stop me from investigating Sir Edmund Bray’s death.’

‘And you think that might have been Tracey. Why?’

‘To protect Nicodemus, who formerly worked for Sir Edward’s father, Sir John de Tracey. Among other things, Sir John and Nicodemus bought and sold slaves after the sack of Southampton. Several hundred English children were sold to buyers overseas.’

‘Jesus Christ!’ Rowton stared at him. ‘Can you prove this?’

‘At the moment, it is hearsay only. If I could lay hands on Nicodemus, I daresay I could.’

‘Have you spoken to Tracey about this?’

‘No, my lord. For whatever reason, I believe he is still protecting Nicodemus.’

The golden rim of the sun broke over the eastern horizon, inaugurating another day of fire. ‘Leave this with me,’ Rowton said. ‘I will speak with the king, and with Tracey. If he really is protecting this man, then God help him.’

Grandvilliers, twenty-five miles south of the Somme, 19th of August, 1346

Evening

‘The prince’s division only made twelve miles today,’ said Richard Percy. ‘Any idea why?’

Percy had been in the field all day; he had ridden in to report to the king’s headquarters at Sommereux, a couple of miles away to the north-west, and had stopped en route to see if there was any news.

‘The men disobeyed orders,’ Merrivale said. ‘They stopped to plunder and burn a couple of towns as we passed.’

‘Jesus Christ. Did the prince do nothing to stop them?’

‘No.’ As at Carentan, the young men had sat on the backs of their horses and laughed at the flames, cheering when roofs collapsed and ignoring the marshal when he tried to hurry them on. ‘They are boys,’ the herald said, ‘and they have a boy’s love of fire.’

‘Well, they had better start growing up. The Bohemians are there.’ Percy pointed to the east, where the sky was darkening to periwinkle blue and the first stars were pricking out. ‘They drew level with us today, and they are marching faster and harder than we are. If King Jean reaches the Somme and its bridges before we do, then we can bend over and kiss our arses farewell.’

Still angry, Percy rode away towards headquarters. The herald stood for a moment, watching the stars, and then turned and walked into the Prince of Wales’s pavilion. Dinner had finished, though plates littered with fish bones were still stacked on the tables. There were no sauces.

‘Highness,’ said the herald. ‘May I have a brief word?’

The prince paused, dice in hand, and waved to his companions. ‘Leave us for a moment. What is it, herald?’

‘Your defiance of your father does you credit,’ Merrivale said. ‘It is good to see you asserting your authority. Independence of spirit is one of the assay marks of a good leader.’

The young face glowed with pride. ‘I am pleased to hear you say so, herald. I value your opinion, as you know.’

‘Thank you, Highness. However, there must be no repeat of the scenes today.’

The prince’s face lost some of its brightness. ‘Why not?’ he demanded.

‘Because while we lingered and watched French towns burn, their army marched. We have now lost all the advantage we gained when we departed from Poissy.’

‘The adversary is close at hand?’

‘The royal army is still a day behind us, Highness. But King Jean of Bohemia and his troops are far too close for comfort.’

The prince’s face lit up again. ‘Blind King Jean? The crusader, the greatest general and warrior of our time? Oh, herald! It would be such an honour to match a lance with him!’

‘King