Part 31 (1/2)

Sir John was glad to be asked to go and test the defences.

After the French militia had tried to bring the English to battle, the English army had been delayed once more, collecting arrows from the field, despatching the enemy wounded, and reforming their men into a line of march. If their intention had been to hold up the English, the French militia could hardly have succeeded more effectively, Sir John thought, but he kept the thought to himself.

The army would continue to Airaines, the Earl of Warwick told him, but Sir John must ride north, to the Somme, and test the defences. It was vital that the English army found a means of crossing the river. They must not be constrained as they had been at the Seine, but must punch their way over and continue up to the county of Ponthieu.

'Those lands were the King's own until this d.a.m.ned war,' Warwick said. 'Once we are there, our situation will improve.'

'Because of the people? You think we can win more men to the King's flag?' Sir John asked.

'Perhaps some, although I wouldn't trust any of the locals that much. You can never tell how a peasant's mind will work. No, I was thinking more that we know that territory. There are places where we can use the land to our advantage.'

'I see.'

The Earl nodded. 'The King used to own Ponthieu, and he has ridden over it, as have his advisers. We all know it. There are plenty of places where we can take on a French army many times the size of ours and utterly destroy it. It's been the idea all along, to harry the French and Philippe until he felt compelled to do something to remove us and our threat. We wanted him to chase us up here and into Ponthieu. Our only concern is that he may have already managed to leap beyond us. If he has, and he's blocked our path into the north,' the Earl said, his face grim, 'then we shall find the next days rather more exciting than we had hoped.'

Now, taking with him a party of six men-at-arms, Richard, and three vintaines of archers, Sir John was riding to the Somme.

'Where do we ride first?' his esquire asked.

'Due north. There was a bridge there, I think. Then we look for other crossings, whether bridges or fords, and gain an impression of the defences, such as they are.'

'And if the defences are strong?'

Sir John didn't answer.

They rode on and found the bridge or where it had stood. It had been destroyed in recent days, and would not be easy to rebuild. The pilings had been removed, so another attempt to throw a tree over the waters would fail.

Riding westwards, following the line of the river, Sir John began to appreciate the immensity of the task before them. The Somme, it appeared, was impa.s.sable. It would have taken all the engineers in the army weeks to construct a bridge strong enough to let them all over, and as for fords, they were a forlorn hope. Nowhere were the waters shallow enough to allow the horses over, let alone the wagons and special weaponry.

The knight thought of his old manors at Iddesleigh and Rookford and wished he was there now. His wife would be working in the dairy at this time of day, making the most of the cool room to leave the cheeses to settle. He could see her in his mind's eye, lifting the heavy buckets and filling the pans, or stirring the curds, bending backwards to ease the strain after churning the b.u.t.ter.

He should be there with her. This journey was a fool's errand. A man of Sir John's age ought to be at his manor, enjoying the twilight of his life, not putting his life in peril.

When this chevauchee was ended, he vowed, he would return and never leave his sh.o.r.es again. But for now, he had to concentrate on surviving. It was very likely that he would not make it back to England. And that belief began to grow stronger as they rode on.

Most bridges they came across had been systematically destroyed, bar a few but those all had many men guarding them. At two bridges there were fortified towns, and their strong encircling walls stood between the army and the bridges. It would require enormous resources to lay siege to them before anyone could cross the bridges behind. And if there was one a.s.set which the English army lacked, it was time. The longer they were held here, without escape, the more likely it was that the French would be able to impose a stranglehold on all provisions, water and other necessities. The army would be bottled up, with the river on one side, the sea on the other, and no hope of escape.

This was futile. They were all doomed.

It was dark when they returned to the army at Airaines and reported to the Earl of Warwick.

'Well?' he demanded.

They were standing in the hall of a great house commandeered by the Royal Family, and the Prince was present, his advisers all about him; however, the thicker cl.u.s.ter of men stood about the other man: the King.

The King smiled, nodding encouragingly to the knight. 'Sir John, I know you have been busily scouting the river for us. Tell us your conclusions.'

The Prince and his household looked on hopefully, while the King maintained his steady gaze.

'Your Royal Highness, my Lords, we rode to the bridge at Long, north of here, and thence took the road westwards to Abbeville and beyond. Every undefendable bridge is thrown down and destroyed. The smaller ones are guarded by large forces that would make any pa.s.sage enormously difficult. Abbeville and Amiens are well guarded, with French soldiers installed. Both have walls as strong as any fortress, and enough men and provisions to hold them for longer than we could spend investing them.'

'It is as I feared, then. The French reached the river before us,' the King said heavily.

'I fear so, my Lord. We carried on in the hope of finding another place to cross. I had thought that there could be a ford farther up towards the estuary, but my hopes were dashed.'

'Do you mean to say that we cannot cross the river?'

'The land becomes ever more marshy, with patches of sedge and reed and treacherous sands. It is possible that there is somewhere nearer the sea where we may cross, but I saw no sign of anywhere suitable. If we could pa.s.s through Longpre, or perhaps Fontaine-sur-Somme, we might be able to reach the river, but any such pa.s.sage would be hard-fought. There is no doubt that the French are determined to keep us here.'

'And that is no surprise. We are trapped. The river before us, the sea behind us, and the army of the French approaching. Philippe will know that we have run short of food. Without supplies, our men will grow weak. Without an escape, this will be our grave. But take heart!' the King said. 'G.o.d is with us. We shall cross this river.'

'I do not see where,' Sir John said quietly.

'Neither do I, Sir John. But there is a crossing there must be. All we need to do is find it.'

22 August Before dawn Berenger saw Granda.r.s.e appear, lumbering through the cool mists like a misshapen goblin from a nightmare. His face was twisted into a scowl, and Berenger could see his mouth moving as he muttered dark imprecations.

'All right, where are the lads?' he said as he came closer.

'Standing ready,' Berenger answered. 'What is it?'

Granda.r.s.e gave him a look from beneath beetling brows. 'They'll be glad to know we have a nice new job.'

'Oh yes?'

'We have to cross the river, right? But because we took our ballocking time to get here, the mother-swyving French reached it first,' Granda.r.s.e explained. 'They have men at every crossing from here to b.l.o.o.d.y Dover!'

Berenger listened as Granda.r.s.e told him of Sir John's ride. 'It'll be a fight, then,' he said.

'We'll have to try to get through the b.u.g.g.e.rs, over the bridge, and out to the plains beyond. If we don't, we know what'll happen.'

There was no need for him to elaborate. All soldiers knew what the outcome would be for an army squeezed against natural obstacles by an implacable and more numerous enemy.

'Is there nowhere we could fight them around here?' Berenger asked hopefully.

'No. The King is desperate to cross the river. This is the last place he wants to fight his battle,' Granda.r.s.e said.

Berenger felt his hope dashed like a wave against rocks, and he turned away bitterly. 'I see.'

Clip had overheard them, and this was his cue. 'Sweet Jesus!' he burst out. 'He told us the whole point of coming here was to f.u.c.king fight! He believed in his cause so strongly, he brought the biggest army he's ever mustered, with the sole intention of forcing the French to come and attack us, didn't he? What was the f.u.c.king point of it if, as soon as they are near, we turn and run? We were demanding our battle all the way to Paris, and since then we've done everything we could to avoid it. They offered to fight us outside Paris, and he brought us all the way up to here. Now we have the French at our tail, we should turn, like a boar held at bay, and show our tusks!'

'Run at them to be spitted on the hunter's lance, you reckon, Clip?' Granda.r.s.e snarled. 'Get your brain working, man! You have it stuck in your a.r.s.e from what you're saying. You think we should fight them here? Look about you! See the reeds, the flat marshes? There's no stable ground for a fight. Aye, the King wants his battle, but not here, not just outside Paris, nor anywhere else when he's not perfectly certain of the land. He has places in mind only a day or two's march from here.'

'Huh!' Clip said grumpily. 'I'm thinking this was just another quick dash to France to win booty, and he never meant to force the French to battle. I've seen little enough fighting spirit.'

'You keep your mouth shut!' Granda.r.s.e hissed, and Clip sullenly moved away.

When he was gone, Granda.r.s.e turned to Berenger. 'Get a grip on your lads, Frip. If they hear Clip moaning on like this, they'll lose heart and men without hope don't win wars. Remember that! If you want to get back to England safe and well, the only way you'll do it is by keeping up the spirits of your boys. Don't let them whine and bellyache.'

'I'll do my best,' Berenger said. About him figures were moving in the wreaths of mist. 'What now?'