Wolf Wood (Part Two): The Dangerous years (9 page)

'Very well.' Mathew Gough nodded thoughtfully. 'We have work for him. I sense mutiny in our ranks. We need someone to sniff it out.'

***

Robin sauntered into the hostelry and gave Guy an archers' salute. They had exchanged a few words in the guardhouse when William was released. To his surprise, Guy treated the whole incident as a joke, saying it would teach William a lesson. Robin guessed that Guy wanted to make friends with him ... if
friend
was the right word.

Guy didn't have
friends
. He had
partners
and
companions-in-arms.
The partners stayed partners so long as there was something in it for Guy. The companions were people who served under Guy and did as they were told. Robin decided that he would be a partner.

'What's your poison?'

Guy pointed to an array of flagons and wineskins. Robin chose beer. You could drink a lot without getting sloshed. Staying sober was important if you were to remember what was said and not say too much yourself.

'Take a seat.'

Guy indicated a place at a table. It was like Guy ... telling people what to do … establishing a pecking order. Robin did as he was told. Letting Guy think he was the dominant male was part of the act.

'You gave Will a bit of a scare,' Guy chuckled, 'thought he was going to be fed to the Frogs.'

The table dissolved in laughter.

'That'll learn him,' someone said. 'Teach him to show more respect for an officer.'

There was more laughter. Robin glanced to where William was standing and saw the expression of pure hatred on his scarred face.

'He wasn't scared. We had it all worked out,' Robin lied. 'We had to shut that gate so the Frogs would think there was still a chance to rescue the prisoners. Will and his boys gave them a thrashing. Did you see how they went back to get more prisoners?'

'A toast to the Noble Company.'

Robin raised his tankard and started a chant.

'Will! … Will! ... Will!'

On the far side of the room, William watched him coldly. There was no way of knowing what went on in his mind. Robin could only assume that the thoughts were hostile.

William was good at tactics but hopeless at strategy. Guy was the one who thought into the future. If you read William's mind you would learn what he intended to do next day. See into Guy's mind and you would discover what he was planning for next year. Guy was the one to cuddle up to. It didn't matter what William thought so long as the bastard didn't get it into his head to kill you.

'The Frogs is bringing up a whole lot of cannon,' someone said. 'They've got some big ones. They'll start bombarding when they've got 'em in place.'

'The big ones came from our foundries in Calais.' Robin seized the opportunity to heap scorn on the hated Beauforts. 'They were part of what Somerset left behind when he surrendered Rouen. He could have spiked them but he left 'em for the Frogs to use against us.'

The Duke of Somerset, otherwise known as Edmund Beaufort, had spent years as a prisoner of the French and was suspected of having French sympathies. Spiking was achieved by packing a cannon with gunpowder and blowing it to pieces.

'That's right Rob, someone said. 'We've been let down by fuckin traitors. We can beat the Frogs any day if we're not stabbed in the back by people who are meant to be our leaders. You and Will showed 'em what we can do …'

Robin sensed that the company was warming to him. That was a good first step. He wouldn't hurry things. Matthew Gough wasn't going to surrender Bayeux in a hurry. There would be plenty of time to find out what Guy and his partners were planning.

Siege

Tears formed in Henriette's eyes. She hated to see Robin in armour. It was the dress of butchery and death. It was bad enough to blow the enemy to pieces with cannons. To go out beyond the walls and hack at them with swords and axes was even worse.

She was with him on the City wall and the siege was in its third week. The French were keeping up a relentless barrage of cannon fire which had reduced whole sections of the wall to rubble. Every so often, they mounted an attack and tried to force an entry through the holes they had made.

Covered trenches reached out from their lines. They could hide in these and the defenders wouldn't know they were there. That meant they could attack at any time and without warning, which made it so tiring.

Robin and his men were sleeping in their armour. He said that was usual on campaigns. Your gear took so long to put on. You would be dead before you had done up the last buckle. They were thankful to have a roof over their heads. On campaigns they often slept in the open with nothing more than a sheet of canvas to keep them dry. Armour rusted and horrible sores developed on their bodies.

Henriette was now living in a convent, requisitioned by the army. The dining hall had been converted into an infirmary. Alice worked as a healer while she cared for children orphaned in the fighting.

Alice had not seen Harald for almost a week. He lodged in the castle with Commander Gough. Robin slept in the guardhouse, or what was left of it. He looked tired and his eyes were bloodshot.

'Do you have to go?'

It was a pointless question but she had to ask it for the sake of the children.

'We have to get to those cannons before they can do more damage.' He held her tight. 'I'm sorry, my love. It won't be long now. When this is all over, we'll go back to England. I've got it all worked out.'

Henriette wondered if they would ever see England again. Thinking about the future was too hard. Best to take each day as it came. Today was likely to be a replay of yesterday. The English cannon would spray the French with all manner of missiles. They had balls packed with grapeshot, balls fastened together with chains and stone balls that disintegrated on impact. Bowmen would let fly with arrows and incendiary bombs would be lobbed by trebuchets.

There was one of the gigantic catapults on a patch of waste land. The gunnery crew had wound down the huge arm and were standing well clear while the gunner made final adjustments. The weight at the end of the arm was made from lead, stripped from the roof of a local church at the start of the siege. When it fell, the other end swung up with so much force it could hurl a man three hundred paces. William had shown that when answering a French demand for the return of prisoners.

It was a nasty brutal war and getting worse with each passing day, despite the efforts of those who wanted to put an end to the carnage. Alice was insisting that French wounded be treated in the infirmary and Robin was negotiating with his counterpart on the French side for an exchange of wounded prisoners. There was something horribly ironic about the whole awful business. At the end of each session of butchery, both men would go out under cover of a white flag wondering if the other was still alive and in a fit state to parlay.

Priests were shuffling back and forth between the two sides trying to organise a truce. Robin said it wasn't going to happen. The French would gain nothing from an end to the fighting. Their forces were poised to take the last of the English strongholds in Normandy. They weren't going to ease up now. They were insisting on nothing less than total surrender and Commander Gough wasn't going to agree to that unless he got much better terms than they were offering. For the moment, there would be no let up.

According to the rules of war, cities that refused to surrender and were taken by storm could expect no mercy. The victorious troops were free to plunder, kill and destroy. That's what happened when Caen was taken by the English thirty years earlier. King Henry ordered a massacre of the entire population, condemning them all as traitors. The memory of that appalling incident weighed heavily on everyone's mind. Robin said the French were anxious to avoid a repetition. Henriette hoped that was the view of the people in command ... not just those with whom he was negotiating.

Henriette gave him a final kiss and watched him go. He seemed heavy of heart. That was not a good way to go into battle. She wondered if she should have stayed at home and not sought him out.

***

Robin ducked the beams as he was carried into the hostelry to the cheers of the archers. He and William were the heroes of the day. They had used the trebuchet to lob a big barrel of gunpowder into the French lines. It was William's idea. He drew diagrams of how the barrel was to be reinforced and devised a special fuse. Robin arranged for blacksmiths to fit the barrel with strong iron bands and had the fuse made.

The trebuchet crew placed the missile in a nest of French cannon. The outcome exceeded all expectations. The barrel crashed down into the soft ground, throwing up mud. They saw the French peering into the hole. They seemed to think it some sort of joke. Then, an earth-shattering explosion sent men and cannons high into the air.

William said it was the iron bands that did it. People thought he put them there to stop the barrel from disintegrating on impact. He said they had a more important purpose. They confined the explosive gases and magnified the blast. Robin had come to think of William as a mindless thug. Now he saw him differently. Part of William's mind thought very clearly and that was the part to fear.

For a while, the French had been totally demoralised by the devastating blast. They abandoned their forward positions and made little attempt to stop the English from capturing valuable supplies, including casks of wine. They had lobbed a barrel of gunpowder at the French and returned with barrels of wine. That little triumph seemed to count for more than anything else.

'Rob! … Rob! … Rob!'

The archers set up a chant as they put him down.

Robin said the praise should go to William. He had designed the new super-weapon. He and the trebuchet crew were the ones they should be cheering.

He grabbed a tankard.

'To William Gascoigne. A true patriot!'

The toast was drunk with the usual noise. Robin watched as another of the French casks was tapped. A mug was filled and handed to an archer who scoffing the lot before saying it was no good.

'This Frog's piss ain't up to our English from Bordeaux.'

The man evidently thought of Bordeaux as English. The people living there didn't see themselves that way. Robin had been there and knew about their history. The citizens of Bordeaux called themselves Gascons. The name dated back to Roman times when they were called Vascons and lumped together with the Basques who were also known by that name. From the way things were going, the Gascons would soon have to think of themselves as French.

The ignorance of most soldiers appalled Robin. He had put his mind to studying to make good the poor education he had received as a boy. Harald and Alice had helped him just like they had helped Henriette.

'A toast to Mat Gough!'

One of the officers raised his tankard. It was what officers did when they didn't want to appear disrespectful towards their commanding officer. The archers raised their tankards but there was no chanting and few drank the toast. Robin kept his tankard well away from his lips. William was watching and he recalled something he had said as a boy.

'It not what people say. It's what they do. That's what matters.'

William had little time for words and was not very good at them. He watched people and was a poor listener. He formed opinions from the way people behaved. That was something to remember when you didn't want him to know what you were thinking. Words meant very little to William unless they were words of praise. Then he fixed you with his icy stare and burrowed deeply into your mind to see if you really meant them.

'Jack Cade! A toast to Master Jack.'

Someone proposed a toast and knowing looks spread around the crowd. Robin felt like an outsider. He raised his tankard as others cheered and watched them from the corner of his eye. There were people who seemed to know as little of Master Cade as he did. Others joined in as if party to a well-kept secret.'