A Flight of Arrows Read online

  A Flight of Arrows

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Map of France and Normandy

  Prologue Freshwater, 6th of July, 1346 Evening

  1 Saint-Vaast, 12th of July, 1346 Morning

  Quettehou, 12th of July, 1346 Midday

  2 Saint-Vaast, 12th of July, 1346 Late afternoon

  Saint-Vaast, 12th of July, 1346 Evening

  Saint-Vaast, 12th of July, 1346 Night

  3 Quettehou, 13th of July, 1346 Morning

  Quettehou, 13th of July, 1346 Midday

  Quettehou, 13th of July, 1346 Afternoon

  Morsalines, 13th of July, 1346 Evening

  4 Valognes, 18th of July, 1346 Afternoon

  Valognes, 18th of July, 1346 Late evening

  5 Sainte-Mère-Église, 19th of July, 1346 Afternoon

  Saint-Côme-du-Mont, 19th of July, 1346 Evening

  Saint-Côme-du-Mont, 19th of July, 1346 Night

  6 Carentan, 20th of July, 1346 Morning

  7 Carentan, 20th of July, 1346 Evening

  8 Pont-Hébert, 21st of July, 1346 Late afternoon

  Pont-Hébert, 21st of July, 1346 Evening

  9 Saint-Lô, 22nd of July, 1346 Morning

  10 Cormolain, 24th of July, 1346 Morning

  Saint-Germain-d’Ectot, 24th of July, 1346 Late evening

  Saint-Germain-d’Ectot, 24th of July, 1346 Night

  Saint-Germain-d’Ectot, 25th of July 1346 Morning

  Caen, 25th of July, 1346 Midday

  11 Caen, 25th of July, 1346 Midday

  Caen, 25th of July, 1346 Late afternoon

  Caen, 25th of July, 1346 Evening

  Caen, 26th of July, 1346 Morning

  12 Caen, 26th of July, 1346 Early afternoon

  Caen, 26th of July, 1346 Evening

  13 Caen, 26th of July, 1346 Evening

  Caen, 26th of July, 1346 Night

  Caen, 27th of July, 1346 Midday

  14 Caen, 30th of July, 1346 Afternoon

  Caen, 30th of July, 1346 Late afternoon

  15 Troarn, 31st of July, 1346 Evening

  Rumesnil, 1st of August, 1346 Late afternoon

  Léaupartie, 1st of August, 1346 Evening

  16 Lisieux, 2nd of August, 1346 Late afternoon

  Lisieux, 2nd of August, 1346 Evening

  Lisieux, 2nd of August, 1346 Midnight

  Bernay, 3rd of August, 1346 Early morning

  17 Duranville, 4th of August, 1346 Evening

  Neubourg, 5th of August, 1346 Evening

  Neubourg, 6th of August, 1346 Late afternoon

  Rouen, 8th of August, 1346 Morning

  18 Gaillon, 9th of August, 1346 Afternoon

  Vernon, 9th of August, 1346 Evening

  Longueville, 9th of August, 1346 Night

  Freneuse, 10th of August, 1346 Afternoon

  19 La Roche-Guyon, 10th of August, 1346 Late afternoon

  Freneuse, 10th of August, 1346 Evening

  Freneuse, 10th of August, 1346 Night

  La Roche-Guyon, 10th of August, 1346 Night

  20 Mantes, 11th of August, 1346 Midday

  Aubergenville, 11th of August, 1346 Evening

  Poissy, 12th of August, 1346 Afternoon

  Poissy, 13th of August, 1346 Afternoon

  21 Poissy, 14th of August, 1346 Morning

  Poissy, 14th of August, 1346 Late afternoon

  Poissy, 15th of August, 1346 Late morning

  Poissy, 15th of August, 1346 Midday

  Poissy, 15th of August, 1346 Early afternoon

  22 Beauvais, thirty-seven miles south of the Somme, 18th of August, 1346 Morning

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

  Molliens-Vidame, ten miles south of the Somme, 20th of August, 1346 Night

  Airaines, four miles south of the Somme, 21st of August, 1346 Evening

  Airaines, four miles south of the Somme, 22nd of August, 1346 Evening

  Airaines, four miles south of the Somme, 22nd of August, 1346 Night

  23 Airaines, four miles south of the Somme, 23rd of August, 1346 Morning

  Oisemont, four miles south of the Somme, 23rd of August, 1346 Late morning

  Acheux, five miles south of the Somme, 23rd of August, 1346 Evening

  Saigneville, south bank of the Somme, 24th of August, 1346 Morning

  The Blanchetaque, 24th of August, 1346 Mid morning

  24 Forêt de Crécy, 24th of August, 1346 Evening

  Forêt de Crécy, 24th of August, 1346 Night

  Forêt de Crécy, 25th of August, 1346 Afternoon

  25 Abbeville, 25th of August, 1346 Night

  26 Abbeville, 26th of August, 1346 Morning

  Crécy-en-Ponthieu, 26th of August, 1346 Morning

  Near Abbeville, 26th of August, 1346 Early afternoon

  Crécy-en-Ponthieu, 26th of August, 1346 Late afternoon

  27 Crécy-en-Ponthieu, 26th of August, 1346 Night

  Saint-Riquier, 27th of August, 1346 Morning

  28 Valloire, 28th of August, 1346 Midday

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Also by A.J. MacKenzie

  Copyright

  Cover

  Table of Contents

  Start of Content

  To John, Richard, Jenny, Mary, and Armand – it all began with you

  Prologue

  Freshwater, 6th of July, 1346

  Evening

  The king and his court demanded fresh butter for their bread, so in the end they had to bring two of the cows ashore. Garnet and Marigold were brought up on deck and hoisted over the side of the cog into a smaller boat. They looked so funny, Nell thought, hanging in the slings with their legs dangling, mooing with distress, and when Garnet finally landed in the boat, she kicked one of the sailors so hard he fell overboard. The other men cheered her for a stout lass who didn’t take nonsense from anyone.

  The chief herdsman should have gone with the cows, but he was heaving his guts out with seasickness, so Nell went instead. The sailors handed her down into the boat and she held the cows firmly by their halters as they were rowed ashore. Once on dry land, she herded them to the nearby manor of Freshwater, right at the western end of the Isle of Wight. Every so often she turned to look out through the rain at the English ships, riding at anchor with their sails furled, unable to make headway against the strong west wind. She thought about the thousands of soldiers packed inside them like saltfish in a barrel, many of them being just as sick as the chief herdsman.

  They were expecting her at Freshwater, and the yeoman of the kitchen, Master Coloyne, showed her a byre where she could stable the cows and do the evening milking. Most of the royal household was there, although the king had taken himself off to Carisbrooke Castle a few miles away. Master Clerebaud the sauce-maker reckoned it was because the beds were softer there. After milking, she warmed herself by the hearth, and then sat down with the scullery lads and maids to eat hot pottage with beans and onions and some bacon thrown in. The pottage warmed them all and kept out the cold. ‘You’d never believe it was July,’ someone said.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Master Coloyne. ‘It’ll be warm enough when we get to France.’

  ‘Why will it be warm in France?’ Nell asked.

  ‘Further south,’ said Master Clerebaud. ‘Stands to reason.’

  It was growing late by the time they finished eating. They offered her a blanket in the kitchen to sleep on, but Nell wanted to keep an eye on Marigold, who hadn’t given as much milk as usual and might be suffering from the long confinement aboard ship. She accepted the blanket and went back to the byre to check on the cows, then lay down in a pile of straw, pulling the blanket over her and fallin
g asleep. After a while, she slipped into a dream, in which she could hear voices, quiet like they were coming from a long way away.

  Curse this weather. If the wind stays against us, the king could abandon the entire expedition and go home. All that preparation and expense, and nothing to show for it.

  Calm yourself. The king’s heart is set on this venture. He won’t turn back, not now.

  Something in the straw tickled her nose and she woke up. She heard again the two voices from the dream, only it wasn’t a dream and the men were right outside the byre, speaking softly.

  ‘This delay could ruin everything.’

  ‘The weather won’t last forever,’ the second voice said. ‘The wind will change, and as soon as it does we will cross over to France. Trust me, I know the king as well as anyone. He’ll not turn back now.’

  ‘And Bertrand? If the army doesn’t arrive when expected, he and the other Norman loyalists will think we have played him false. What do we do about him?’

  Nell lay still, listening hard. Their English was accented, and she had to concentrate to understand what they were saying. The worried man sounded like he came from the West Country; she thought the other might be from somewhere in the north.

  ‘We need to get word to him,’ the second man said. ‘Get a messenger across to Normandy and tell him the king still intends to land at Saint-Vaast but it will be later than planned. He needs to hold his men together and wait.’

  ‘And how am I meant to get a message to France? My ships cannot sail into a headwind, any more than the king’s can.’

  ‘You have money,’ the northerner said. ‘And as you keep telling me, with the right amount of money, anything is possible. Make it happen.’

  The West Country man growled under his breath. ‘Oh aye, very well. I’ll see what I can do. What about Harcourt?’

  ‘If Bertrand succeeds, then Harcourt will be discredited. Do you see now why this is so important? You must get that message to Bertrand.’

  ‘I will. Christ, now it’s raining again. A pox on this bloody weather!’

  The voices faded as the two men walked away. Silence fell. Nell lay for a moment in the darkness, trying to work out the meaning of what she had heard. They needed to send a message across to Normandy, to warn someone called Bertrand. But who was Bertrand? An enemy? Or one of the king’s Norman friends?

  She wondered if she should tell someone what she had overheard. But she was a fourteen-year-old cowherd from Hampshire, and she had no idea who to approach or whether they would listen to her. She couldn’t tell her own master, the chief herdsman, because he was still sick aboard the transport. She would tell Master Coloyne tomorrow, she decided, and let him decide the matter.

  Pleased at having reached a decision, she fell back into sleep.

  1

  Saint-Vaast, 12th of July, 1346

  Morning

  As the northern man had predicted, the bad weather did not last forever. On the 11th of July, the clouds rolled away and the wind changed. The invasion force unfurled its sails, swept down the Solent and out into the open sea, turning its bows south towards Normandy.

  At dawn on the 12th, the first ships arrived in the Bay of Saint-Vaast and the leading companies of the army came ashore. Archers and men-at-arms jumped out of their boats into the shallow water, alert and looking for the enemy. Some climbed up the steep escarpment overlooking the bay, taking up defensive positions around the village of Quettehou. Others ran towards a row of ships drawn up on the sand near the little fishing port of Saint-Vaast. Within a few minutes, these were burning fiercely.

  King Edward III of England came ashore mid morning, landing on the beach beneath a sky stained with smoke. Clad in armour and a surcoat bearing the royal arms, three snarling gold leopards on a field of red, he stepped out of the boat and stood for a moment, hand resting on his sword hilt, while he gazed at the scene around him.

  ‘I have come to claim what is mine,’ he said. He took a long stride up the beach, tripped, and fell flat on his face.

  His courtiers paused in horror, then rushed to help him to his feet. Thomas Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick and Marshal of England, coughed behind his hand. ‘It seems your land is eager to embrace you, sire.’

  ‘Don’t be sarcastic, Thomas,’ the king said curtly, brushing sand off his surcoat and wiping blood from his nose. ‘What is our position?’

  ‘We have met with no resistance, sire. Both Saint-Vaast and Quettehou are abandoned.’

  ‘Any sign of the enemy?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Warwick paused. ‘But they were here, and quite recently too. And what is more, they were expecting us.’

  The king stared at him. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘We found the remains of campfires near Saint-Vaast.’ Warwick pointed to the smouldering remains of the ships. ‘And those vessels were fitted out for war. They had castles fore and aft, and some were armed with mangonels. There is no doubt about it, sire. Robert Bertrand and his men intended to mount a strong defence of this place.’

  Blood continued to drip down into the king’s moustache. His secretary handed him a square of linen. Irritably he wiped the blood away. ‘But how did they know we were landing here?’ he demanded. ‘How did they know about Saint-Vaast?’

  Warwick shrugged his shoulders, not an easy thing to do when wearing a mail coat with plate armour over top. ‘We have spies in Paris. We must assume the adversary also has spies in London.’

  The king looked dissatisfied. ‘So where are they now? Why did they not stay and fight?’

  ‘We don’t know.’ Warwick paused again. ‘The first element of the plan is complete, sire. Lord Cobham, Sir Thomas Holland and the Red Company have established a defensive line to protect the beach. Shall we proceed with the landing?’

  The king nodded, wiping his nose again. ‘Make it so. Where is my son?’

  Edmund Bray, esquire to the Prince of Wales, stepped forward. ‘His Highness has just come ashore, sire. He sent me to ask what your orders might be.’

  More ships were moving into the bay, dark red sails glowing in the strong sunlight. ‘Now that the prince is here, I think we should hold the ceremony without delay,’ the king said. ‘I shall first confer the accolade of knighthood on my son and heir. After that, as a demonstration that I am king of France, Godefroi d’Harcourt will do homage to me for his lands in Normandy. That will hearten the troops and put the fear of God into the rest of the Norman nobles. It will make good reading back home, too.’

  Warwick raised his eyebrows. ‘I am certain it will, sire. But is this the right time? We need to get the rest of the army ashore first, find the enemy and learn what strength they have. Robert Bertrand and his troops might still be in the area. With respect, sire, I think we have better things to do.’

  Another man, stocky and dark-haired in a blue surcoat with white trefoils over his gleaming armour, shook his head. ‘The purpose of this campaign is to take and hold Normandy,’ he said. ‘If we can wrest our adversary’s richest and most important province from his control, his power will begin to crumble. His nobles will turn against him and he will be forced to make peace, on terms advantageous to us.’

  ‘Get to the point, Eustace,’ the king said impatiently.

  ‘We cannot hold Normandy without the support of the Norman nobility, sire. You said it yourself. My lord of Harcourt’s pledge of fealty to you, especially with fifteen thousand troops at your back, will concentrate their minds. Once they learn that one of the most important Norman barons has publicly backed you, others will follow his example.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the king, dabbing at his nose again. ‘Yes, I am persuaded, Eustace. Where shall we do this?’

  Eustace Maninghem, the lord of Rowton, pointed towards Quettehou up on the escarpment. ‘What about the church up there? I believe it is dedicated to Saint-Vigor, one of the patron saints of Normandy. Perfect symbolism, sire, don’t you think?’