try to murder us in our beds?’
It was tempting to kick him again – harder, this time – but the eyes of the others were all on him, and Berenger didn’t want them to see that he was rattled. He hissed,
‘Next time I give you an order, Clip, you had best obey to the letter, whether you like it or not, because if you don’t, I’ll see you flogged!’
He took a dry crust of bread with him outside and sat on a low wall to eat it, staring glumly at the roadway before them.
A short while later, Jack came outside and joined him. ‘It wasn’t Clip’s fault, Frip. You would have questioned an order like that yourself, you know it. What’s it all
about? We’re in the middle of an army of twelve thousand or more. Why worry about our own sentries?’
Berenger broke off a little more bread and offered it. Jack took it without enthusiasm, studying it for a moment before cramming it into his mouth.
‘You remember the night before last?’ Berenger said. ‘Grandarse came to warn me. Apparently, some think we bribed our way out from the French, using secrets instead of
money.’
‘They’re fucking mad!’ Jack blurted out, spraying dried crumbs in all directions. ‘You mean some prick’s been saying we betrayed our own?’
‘And some of ’em would like to come and repay the kindness. So we all have to keep on our toes, Jack. If we don’t, any evening one or more of us is likely to walk into a
blade.’
‘I understand,’ Jack said gravely.
‘What do you make of the newer guys?’
‘Christ’s ballocks, Frip, you expect me to comment on them before we’ve even seen a French horse running at them?’
‘We saw them on the ship.’
‘It’s hard to gauge. John of Essex was mad to get into things, as usual. He’s got even less brain than Donkey. Show him a fight and he’ll rush to get into the thick of
it.’
‘The rest?’
Jack puffed out his cheeks. ‘Dogbreath could be useful. He didn’t look scared and he tried to tangle with the first of them when they came at us. He was knocked down in the first
mêlée. Aletaster, I didn’t see. Turf was throwing his guts up when the attack came, as usual. Pardoner didn’t look too clever – he seemed to get knocked down and he
disappeared until the ship was crushed – and then he suddenly reappeared in time to be rescued and captured. I didn’t see Saint Lawrence or the others during the fight.’
‘So no obvious cowards or fools who could be dangerous?’
‘Not that I saw, no.’
‘Good. Then we’ll stick to them, but we’ll have to work them. You know what it’s like. Bored archers get sloppy. We need to get them to some butts or make our own.
That’ll have the advantage of both testing their skills, honing them, and keeping us all away from any mad bastards who think we may be traitors.’
‘Right enough. Do you want me to get them ready now?’
‘Yes, I . . .’
Berenger was interrupted by the appearance of Richard Bakere, Sir John de Sully’s esquire. ‘Sir John needs to see you, Fripper.’
He nodded. ‘Jack, get on with it. Give them a good going-over. I want to know we can rely on them in a fight. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
When Berenger entered the room, he was surprised to see Grandarse standing at the corner of the chamber behind Sir John de Sully. Berenger felt his hackles rise in warning, but not because of
those two. It was the others.
They were not alone. To one side was the slim, elegant figure of Peter of Bromley, the man Berenger knew had been called Pierre d’Agen, with his clerk, Alain de Châlons, and a
man-at-arms. Peter of Bromley was just one of many men who had appeared here in the King’s army seeking wealth, power, or simply revenge for actions taken by the French, but the sight of him
set Berenger’s teeth on edge. A man who would turn traitor was likely to find it easy to do so again.
The warlike Bishop of Durham, Thomas Hatfield, was in the room too, with a serious expression on
It was tempting to kick him again – harder, this time – but the eyes of the others were all on him, and Berenger didn’t want them to see that he was rattled. He hissed,
‘Next time I give you an order, Clip, you had best obey to the letter, whether you like it or not, because if you don’t, I’ll see you flogged!’
He took a dry crust of bread with him outside and sat on a low wall to eat it, staring glumly at the roadway before them.
A short while later, Jack came outside and joined him. ‘It wasn’t Clip’s fault, Frip. You would have questioned an order like that yourself, you know it. What’s it all
about? We’re in the middle of an army of twelve thousand or more. Why worry about our own sentries?’
Berenger broke off a little more bread and offered it. Jack took it without enthusiasm, studying it for a moment before cramming it into his mouth.
‘You remember the night before last?’ Berenger said. ‘Grandarse came to warn me. Apparently, some think we bribed our way out from the French, using secrets instead of
money.’
‘They’re fucking mad!’ Jack blurted out, spraying dried crumbs in all directions. ‘You mean some prick’s been saying we betrayed our own?’
‘And some of ’em would like to come and repay the kindness. So we all have to keep on our toes, Jack. If we don’t, any evening one or more of us is likely to walk into a
blade.’
‘I understand,’ Jack said gravely.
‘What do you make of the newer guys?’
‘Christ’s ballocks, Frip, you expect me to comment on them before we’ve even seen a French horse running at them?’
‘We saw them on the ship.’
‘It’s hard to gauge. John of Essex was mad to get into things, as usual. He’s got even less brain than Donkey. Show him a fight and he’ll rush to get into the thick of
it.’
‘The rest?’
Jack puffed out his cheeks. ‘Dogbreath could be useful. He didn’t look scared and he tried to tangle with the first of them when they came at us. He was knocked down in the first
mêlée. Aletaster, I didn’t see. Turf was throwing his guts up when the attack came, as usual. Pardoner didn’t look too clever – he seemed to get knocked down and he
disappeared until the ship was crushed – and then he suddenly reappeared in time to be rescued and captured. I didn’t see Saint Lawrence or the others during the fight.’
‘So no obvious cowards or fools who could be dangerous?’
‘Not that I saw, no.’
‘Good. Then we’ll stick to them, but we’ll have to work them. You know what it’s like. Bored archers get sloppy. We need to get them to some butts or make our own.
That’ll have the advantage of both testing their skills, honing them, and keeping us all away from any mad bastards who think we may be traitors.’
‘Right enough. Do you want me to get them ready now?’
‘Yes, I . . .’
Berenger was interrupted by the appearance of Richard Bakere, Sir John de Sully’s esquire. ‘Sir John needs to see you, Fripper.’
He nodded. ‘Jack, get on with it. Give them a good going-over. I want to know we can rely on them in a fight. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
When Berenger entered the room, he was surprised to see Grandarse standing at the corner of the chamber behind Sir John de Sully. Berenger felt his hackles rise in warning, but not because of
those two. It was the others.
They were not alone. To one side was the slim, elegant figure of Peter of Bromley, the man Berenger knew had been called Pierre d’Agen, with his clerk, Alain de Châlons, and a
man-at-arms. Peter of Bromley was just one of many men who had appeared here in the King’s army seeking wealth, power, or simply revenge for actions taken by the French, but the sight of him
set Berenger’s teeth on edge. A man who would turn traitor was likely to find it easy to do so again.
The warlike Bishop of Durham, Thomas Hatfield, was in the room too, with a serious expression on
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