The Bow (20 page)

The duke was growing impatient. He pulled at his moustache and
glowered. Then he took the letter, stared at it, folded it, unfolded
it, and finally flung it down on the table: ‘Well, there it is!’
he said, and getting to his feet stepped down from the dais and
strode away across the hall.

James watched him go, and then looked at Giles and his mother;

‘I am sorry if I have caused . . .’

‘You have caused nothing, James!’ laughed Giles. ‘Is that not
so, mother?’

‘Assuredly,’ replied Emma. ‘My husband loves to argue at
breakfast. It is, how do you say? – it is his way. If he were not
arguing over pirates, he would be arguing over the number of cows in
a neighbour’s corn.’

‘And roaring like a bull,’ added Giles. He brushed the crumbs off
his tunic, drained his cup, and stood. ' I must away to the tilt
yard. You will see me James, before you leave?’

James also stood. ‘I will.’ He paused, reached down and picked up
the parchment. ‘You would not take it amiss, if I took up your
father’s offer?’

Giles threw back his head: ‘Hah! I would think you mad if you
didn’t! And don’t worry about my mother here. She loves to tease
my father, don’t you mother?’

Emma raised a hand. ‘Shame on you Giles!’ she said, and there was
a sparkle in her eyes. ‘Off to the tilt yard with you, where the
captains can box your pretty ears!’

Giles kissed her on the cheek and left, almost tripping over a young
girl carrying a tray of bread. The girl reddened, bobbed, and gazed
after him as he hurried off.

'See!’ said Emma with a quiet smile. ‘He breaks hearts already,
and has no idea of what he does.’

‘He has the makings of a fine knight.’

‘You think so? His mother thinks he has the hallmark of a
troublesome son,’ she replied glancing over what was left on the
table. ‘Now! See here! You have hardly eaten anything and the day
moves on apace. Come, let’s find something for your trencher.’

James stayed standing, and gave a slight inclination of the head: ‘My
lady I must go.’

She sighed. ‘Hungry to leave, and not to eat,’ she said and
smiled again.

‘Well, away with you then and don’t delay, but remember your
promise to my son.’

He bowed. ‘I will my lady. And thank you.’ He had turned to leave
when he heard her speak again:

‘You love your wife?’

He turned. ‘She is my wife, my lady.’

‘And so?’

‘She is everything to me.’

‘Hah! You are just saying that. A remark for silly wenches in a
tavern.’

He blushed. ‘My Hettie is my Hettie. I cannot imagine myself with
anyone else. It has always been that way.’ He paused. ‘I care for
her.’

The lady of Fecamp lowered her eyes, twisted the ring on her finger
and then looked up again. ‘That sounds like love,’ she said
quietly. ‘Deeper than beauty.’

‘Or the same as,’ replied James. He felt awkward now, and was
eager to leave. ‘You love someone from the inside out. There’s no
one more beautiful than my Hettie. It’s as simple as that.’ He
bowed yet again. ‘I must be going, my lady. Thank you again.’

She watched him go, staring sadly after the English archer, and
hardly aware of the servants bustling about her, or the two kitchen
maids giggling in the corner. And then the bells of La Trinite began
to ring, tolling across the fields of Fecamp.

‘Matins,’ she whispered. ‘and here I am still at table.’ She
rose, smoothed her gown and stepped down from the dais.

When James reached the port, he farewelled the escort the duke had
granted him at the last moment: two crossbowmen and a mounted
sergeant. Word had already spread that he was under the protection of
the duke, and people stepped aside as he made his way through the
narrow streets. He held the duke’s warrant tight in his hand, and
rested his bow easily across his shoulder. With the rest of his gear
strapped to his back, and his wallet heavy with food he missed his
horse, but knew there was no going back now, and that if he arrived
safely the earl would be happy enough to replace it.

The air was heavy with the tang of salt, sea-soaked wood, fish oil
and leather: it drew him down to the docks. There, among the
flat-bottomed skiffs and river-barges he found a broad-beamed,
high-sided cog with a green and gold banner hanging at its mast head:
the John de Groen. Wasting no time, he climbed aboard, presenting his
warrant to the master, Pieter of Bruges, and stowing his gear in the
stern castle. It was well that he arrived when he did. With the tide
on the turn, and an off-shore breeze gusting from the east, the
master was keen to weigh anchor and set sail. An hour later the de
Groen slipped its moorings and with sail filling dipped its bow
towards the open sea.

James stood on the deck, careful to keep out of the way of the
sailors as they scrambled about the rigging and watched the port of
Fecamp fade against the shore, The rolling motion of the deck
reminded him of his stomach, and he hoped that he would at least hold
onto his breakfast.

They sailed before the wind and tide, heading west into the broad
green waters of the channel. Soon Fecamp had all but disappeared
beneath the fading line of distant hills.

The ship’s master, strolling along the swaying deck caught James’
anxious gaze. He laughed:

‘Do you think we have somehow lost our way, sir archer?’ he said
in a heavy Flemish brogue. ‘Don’t worry. I know exactly where
Harfleur is, and how to reach it.’ He leant on the ships rail and
stared at the running sea. ‘No point in turning south yet. The wind
and tide would tax our helm and make us wallow in this swell.’ A
rope slapped against the sail, making him look up. ‘See! She is
full and fat and eager to pull us westward. Let’s dance to her tune
until we clear the coastal shoals. Then, and only then we’ll put
two hands to the tiller and ease this beauty to a southern course.
What say you?’

James nodded. ‘When should we make port?’ he asked.

The master shrugged. ‘When we arrive,’ he said with a broad
smile, ‘And not afore!’ With a careless wave he turned and
wandered off towards the fo’castle.

They sailed on to evening. James was sick. Then he slept. He woke to
a silver dawn and struggled up on deck. A sailor took pity on him and
gave him a leaf to chew. In a short while he began to feel better.
The sea had eased and the wind had dropped, though there was still
enough of a breeze to fill the sails. To the west towering white
clouds stood over a faint shadow James took to be England. It was far
off but closer than France. He frowned and reached to check that he
still had the duke’s letter safe inside his tunic. At the same
moment the ship’s master hailed him from atop the stern castle.
James waved back and made his way unsteadily across the deck. As he
did so, he noticed two young women who had appeared at the entrance
to the fo’castle. They were watching him. He nodded in their
direction, but they did not return his salute.

'Hah hah!’ said the master as James scrambled up beside him, ‘Did
you sleep well?’

'I slept some,’ replied James, glancing towards the women as he
spoke.

‘So!’ laughed the master, ‘ I see your eye has caught my other
passengers. Rare beauties are they not? No, no! There is no need to
answer.’ Pieter the shipmaster paused, held one hand up to the wind
and nodded to himself. ‘Let me tell you,’ he went on. ‘The tall
fair one with the braided hair: she is the daughter of a Flemish
merchant from Ghent.’ He looked around as though about to impart
some secret no one else on the boat knew. ‘She is on her way to her
betrothal. Yes! What do you think of that? As my name is Pieter of
Bruges I tell the truth. Her name is Greta Maud and she is the
daughter of Jan Lukas van der Kemp. I have received a warrant and
payment to transport this lady and her maidservant to Harfleur, and
see them safely to the house of an English wool broker, who now
resides there as of this Michaelmas past.’

James looked surprised. ‘Her father does not travel with her?’

The ship master smiled. ‘No, in faith he does not. He has a deep
fear of deep water. It seems a fortune teller told him one day he
would die of drowning in a great ocean, and ever since he has avoided
the sea like the plague. Hah! And him such a well-heeled dealer in
cloth and wool: wool that cannot travel unless it crosses the very
thing he fears so much! What think you of that?’

James was about to reply when there was a cry from the masthead. They
both looked up. A ship-boy clinging to the platform above the
mainspar shouted something to the master. Pieter shouted back, then
turned and looked to the north-east. He cursed and pushed his cap to
the back of his head: ‘I should never have lit that lantern at the
mainmast,’ he said. ‘We lit it last night for safety’s sake,
and look what it has drawn to us.’

'Pirates?’

‘Aye, pirates or eager fishermen. There’s not much else would
sail a boat like that: narrow beamed and low in the water.’

James looked in the direction of the boat. It was so far off that it
seemed to almost disappear every so often as the waves rose and fell,
but he could tell that it was not a merchant cog, and that its sail
was pale brown and lateen rigged. There was no doubt that it was
moving towards them.

With a grunt, the master hitched up the belt around his bulging
waist, and looked around at the crew members as though counting them
in his head and trying to work out whether they stood any chance of
surviving in a fight. Then he turned again to look at the boat behind
them. He tugged thoughtfully at his moustache and started to hum a
tune to himself, though James could not work out what it was. It was
however strangely cheerful, and didn’t match the worried frown on
his face. After a short time he grimaced, spat into the palm of one
hand, then rubbed his hands together:

‘Well, all right, then!’ he said. ‘He’s been on our course
for a good while now, and is probably no more than a mile away and
closing at a fair clip. That lateen sail eats light winds, and with a
light-weight hull a ship like that could be up on us in a few hours.’
He craned his neck and stared up at the sail. ‘If we had more
breeze I’d keep on this west sou’west heading, and try and keep
our distance, but there’s precious little chance of that now. So,
we’ll take a new heading due south and see if he follows our tack.’
He signalled to the tillerman who nodded in reply, and called the
turn.

Slowly the cog leaned to port and turned its stubby bow across the
rising swell. A few of the crew ran to the starboard side, while
others clung to the rigging and kept an anxious watch on the
following sail. Creaking and groaning, and with sail flapping the
John de Groen buffeted its way to a southern heading then at last
settled upright once more and began to ‘make wake’. ‘Easy!’
cried the ship’s master. Then: ‘Hard on the helm there, or we’ll
drift back before the wind!’

‘Aye, master!’ came the reply, and the tillerman swore softly as
he fought to hold the course. Another sailor sprang to his aid, and
with arms locked and feet square set, they wrestled the cog to the
south.

‘How goes the lateener?’ yelled Pieter to the mast-watch after a
while. ‘Does he hold his course?’

There was a short pause. The sea crashed against the clinker planking
of the hull sending a curtain of icy water showering across the deck.
James felt the whole boat shudder beneath his feet.

‘Ho master!’ came the reply. ‘He alters course.’

‘Where away?’

‘South, master. Upon our heading.’

Slowly Pieter of Bruges shook his head, and instinctively loosened
his broad-bladed dagger in its sheath. ‘Too much to hope for,’ he
said. ‘No fishermen these. They mean to run us down, that’s for
sure and we’re still a fair way off Harfleur.’

James noticed that the two women had disappeared inside the cabin.
He rung the corner of his cloak out where the wave had drenched it.

‘So we fight,’ he said.

‘Aye, and with twenty crew including four ship-boys it’s a fight
that’s not in our favour.’

‘I have my bow,’ said James.

‘Aye, so ye have, and it’s well for us that ye do. Still I’ll
warrant they’ll have their own fair share of archer-men aboard.’
All the time that he had been speaking, Pieter had not taken his eyes
off the pursuing boat which was now visibly closing them down. But
now he turned his gaze away and called down to a sailor who was
standing amidships by the mainmast rigging. ‘Hoy there, boatswain!
Arm the crew and stand to along the portside rail. That’s where
they’ll try to board us.’ The sailor waved and disappeared below
deck. He soon appeared carrying broadswords, falchions and short
hafted poleaxes. A ship-boy followed close behind, clutching two
crossbows and an arrow-bag of quarrels. Suddenly the boat heeled to
starboard as the breeze freshened, and gusts sent waves slapping
against the hull. Pieter himself rushed to the tiller, and together
with the other men held the boat on course.

‘That’s better!’ he said. ‘More of this and we’ll make some
way on them, or at least slow the devils down. They’ll be short of
free-board and won’t fancy the sea splashing over their gunwales.’

The sky darkened and the waves turned shadow-grey. A heavy murk fell
across the horizon, and the first spots of rain sleeted across the
deck. James looked up at the scudding clouds, and then snatched at
the ship’s rail as he felt the ship pitch and roll in the rising
sea. For a moment his stomach heaved, but he was relieved that it was
no more than a brief reminder of what he had suffered the day before.

‘I’ll get my bow,’ he said and headed down the ladder to the
stern-castle cabin. Once there he quickly pulled his quilted jack
over his tunic, and tied the lacings. Then he strapped on his
broadsword, and checked that his ballock knife was smooth in its
sheath. Slinging his arrow-bag over one shoulder, he picked up his
bow, still careful to leave it wrapped in its cloth cover, and headed
for the doorway. As he did so he noticed a pot-helm lying in one
corner under a bench. He reached for it and held it up. There was a
bit of rust around the rivets and a dent just below the crown, but
apart from that it seemed quite serviceable. Dusting it off, he
rammed it on his head. ‘Not bad,’ he thought to himself, ‘even
though it lacks the padding of a leather hood.’ Cramming an old
leather and horn bracer under the crown, he made his way back up onto
the stern-castle deck. There he found Pieter who was still keeping
watch on the pursuing vessel and calling instructions to the
tillermen. As James arrived and came and stood beside him, he nodded
and gestured towards the stern.