The Bow by Bill Sharrock Read Free Book Online Page B

king’s provost will be around soon, booking knights and nobles.
William Bretoun will make sure you don’t miss out on any of your
share of the ransom.’
    ‘ Aye,’ broke in Jankyn, ‘And by the look of that
fellow you fished, he’ll dine at the king’s table tonight, and ye
won’t see ‘im again.’
    James shrugged. ‘As long as he brings me enough for a
patch of land and a fat belly to keep me from this soldiering.’
    ‘ Faint hope, bowman!’ a voice boomed. They all
turned. It was Lord Talbot, his warhound by his side, and a captured
French banner in his hand. He was grinning broadly:
    ‘ Ye did bravely, lads and the king would have ye know
it, but there’s a lick of work yet before this fair march is done.’
    They all put their hands to caps and forelocks, and
those that were sitting started to their feet, but he waved them
down.’
    ‘ Nay, lads. No ceremony. You’ve done enough this
day. Rest now. Patch your wounds, make fires and look to the setting
of the sun. The provender marshal and his clerks will be around soon
with meat and beer from the king’s own wagons.’
    No one replied. There was a silence. Then Morgaun
muttered under his breath: ‘Cry God for Harry, England and Saint
George’.
    Talbot frowned, then smiled quickly again. ‘A problem,
sir bowman?’
    Morgaun flushed. ‘No, my lord. It’s just that . . .’
    ‘ Say on, man! I won’t string you up for speaking
your mind.’
    The stocky Welshman straightened: ‘Well, my lord, it’s
just that, meat and beer aside I was hoping I but might see my lassie
and my little ones before this year is out.’
    ‘ Hah!’ laughed Sir Gilbert. ‘Hah! And so you
shall. We march for Calais in the morn.’
    'But ye said, my lord . . .’
    ‘ Aye, just so – a lick of work: we bury the dead in
the morning. Then we gather what we have, burn the rest and take the
road for England. The king is for home, though I’ll warrant he’ll
call for indentures in the Spring.’ He turned and was gone.
    The archers watched him go. ‘A good man is that,’
said Yevan after a while.
    ‘ He is, too,’ replied Old Lewis, easing his legs
straight as he sat down. ‘Though you’d be hard to find a better
man than my lord Westmoreland. Did ye see how he fought at the king’s
back, and then called up those extra spearmen to cover us when the
second Battle broke against our centre?’
    ‘ The devil I did!’ laughed Jankyn, ‘I was too busy
saving your poor hide from those Frenchies. Fair skittled three of us
before I could say “priest and pauper”, and then looked to
shorten you by a head!’
    ‘ Never saw that!’ said Old Lewis, scratching the
back of his neck, and then looking puzzled when everyone burst out
laughing.
    'Well,’ said Morgaun after a time. ‘The wounds are
beginning to smart, and the fever’s in my throat. Let’s be away
from this place and find a dry corner to build a fire.’
    ‘ Aye,’ replied Yevan. ‘We sit here on our
backsides while them’s out there robbing the dead, and killing the
wounded! May as well take ourselves off. Ye heard what Sir John
said.’ He shouldered his staff and picked up his quiver. ‘Lewis!
You wait here with James and Eric. We’ll send for you when we’ve
found a possie.’ He shambled off, and called over his shoulder:
    ‘ Come on lads!’
    Groaning and muttering, they followed.
    The sun was dipping, but the skies had cleared, and a
soft light fell across the battlefield. Around him, James could hear
the prisoners talking in their strange and sing-song language. One or
two were sobbing – squires or page boys he guessed – and a few
cursed and cried out from wounds that smarted as they moved. There
was a young knight, standing to one side, covered in filth, but
upright, and staring. He wore the muddy remnants of a blue jupon with
a yellow chevron: it was a blazon he did not recognize.
    William Bretoun came across. He was whistling, and he
had a golden chain slung about his neck.
    'Hey, up