Lucifer's Harvest (The Chronicles of Hugh de Singleton, Surgeon) Read online

  “’Tis a long story,” I replied.

  “Keep your guard up,” the fellow said. “Sir Simon is rarely satisfied with one blow.”

  “I am Hugh de Singleton,” I said. “Surgeon to Lord Gilbert Talbot. Who was the fellow with Sir Simon?”

  “A surgeon? Good man to know, if worst comes to worst. I am Sir John Clifford. But I pray we need not meet again,” he chuckled. “Sir Simon’s companion was John de Boys. Like Castor an’ Pollux, those two.”

  The inhabitant of the tent, meanwhile, had found his cotehardie in its ruins. He spoke as Sir John turned to continue upon his way.

  “Was it you who fell upon my tent? If you must drink overmuch wine so you cannot stand aright, do so nearby your own tent,” the man growled. He advanced toward me and I feared that I was to receive another blow.

  “Nay,” I protested. “I’ve had no wine. A man assaulted me just now and I fell against your tent. Here, I will help you erect it again.”

  “I heard you say that you are Lord Gilbert’s surgeon. Why would some man attack a surgeon?”

  “Because,” I replied, “I made a weathervane of his ear.”

  The fellow peered at me with a puzzled expression but asked no more of the altercation. Together we re-erected the tent and I continued to my own tent, which I shared with Arthur and Uctred.

  There is little to do in such an encampment but sit about a fire, drink too much ale, throw dice, and tell stories of past exploits. Under the influence of blaze and ale these tales grow marvelously. I found Arthur with the others of Lord Gilbert’s cohort, sitting placidly whilst a page barely old enough to produce threadlike whiskers concluded a report of his conflict with a cutpurse on the streets of Oxford.

  “What was the uproar about?” Arthur asked. “’Eard a row a few minutes past. You see it?”

  “Aye … saw it clearly.”

  I fell silent and sat upon the end of Arthur’s bench. When I said no more, he said, “Well?”

  “Met Sir Simon,” I said through a thickening lip.

  “’Twas a noisy encounter. We heard it. What happened?”

  I told him, and when I was done Arthur leaned close and peered at my lip in the firelight.

  “Swole up already,” he said. “Gonna dribble your ale into your beard for a few days. Next I see Sir Simon, be he alone, or with but one or two others, I’ll ’ave words with ’im ’bout the folly of attacking Lord Gilbert’s surgeon.”

  I had no doubt that, if such a conversation occurred, ’twould be one-sided.

  Chapter 3

  We set out next morn for Canterbury and two days later pitched our tents beside the town wall. Many sought the cathedral and knelt at the tomb of Thomas Becket in the crypt to ask the saint’s blessing in the travel and combat to come. Whether or not the archbishop heard from heaven and looked favorably upon these requests I know not. It seems to me that the saint, if he harkened to such pleas, would take them then to the Lord Christ. Why, then, not address such petitions directly to Him?

  Such thoughts are perhaps heretical, and so I keep them to myself. A few years past I spoke my mind about purgatory to a dying abbot and nearly ran afoul of an archdeacon when my words were overheard. A man seldom gets in trouble for saying too little.

  After a day of rest for men and beasts we set out for Dover and reached the port on the evening of the second day from Canterbury. Lord Gilbert and others of rank made their abode in the castle whilst all others pitched tents at the base of the hill where the castle overlooks town and sea. We were told to be ready to strike our tents and assemble at the harbor at a moment’s notice. The port was overflowing with vessels of all sizes, accumulated from the Cinque Ports and even farther away. We waited for two days for the wind to veer from the west.

  A man possessing the lungs of a bellowing bull came through the camp before dawn two days before St. Thomas the Martyr’s Day, charging all to be at the ships by the third hour.

  I had not seen Lord Gilbert since our party arrived at the walls of Canterbury. He glanced in my direction at the wharf where our ship was tied, then turned to study me more thoroughly. My lip was yet red, swollen, and tender to the touch. He would likely ask of the cause at some convenient time.

  Lord Gilbert’s rank meant that he and his men could board ship from the wharf. Others of lesser position crossed the shingle and waded to their vessels in waist-deep water. ’Twas July, and the sea near as warm as would ever be, but I was pleased not to be required to embark in such a fashion. Rank has its privileges, even for those who but serve a man of rank.

  By the sixth hour most of our fleet was well off shore. To the east and west I saw the white cliffs gleaming and thought how welcome that sight would be upon our return.

  The wind was brisk. This was both good and bad. We would reach Calais the sooner, but the farther we traveled from land the stronger the breeze became, till ’twas nearly a gale. This raised considerable waves and soon mal de mer began to afflict those of us accustomed to a steady floor beneath our feet.

  “Feels like I’ve ’ad too much wine,” Arthur said, and plunged to the bulwark. Uctred and several others had preceded him to the rail, and more would follow. The sailors who conveyed us to France looked on with amused expressions, occasionally commanding a sufferer to lean farther over the rail so as not to befoul their ship. The vessel stank badly enough as ’twas. When I crossed the sea to France nearly ten years earlier I had suffered no ill effects from the voyage, but the sea was calmer upon that occasion, both leaving Britain and returning. I nearly followed Arthur to the bulwark. By the ninth hour the green hills of France appeared on the horizon before us, and well before darkness settled over the sea our ship joined dozens of others in Calais harbor, awaiting a turn at the wharf to unload.

  All was noise and confusion. Men shouted for others to clear a path, and those whose work was with the beasts were loudest of all. Horses neighed and plunged against their grooms. More than one of these men was soundly kicked and I thought my services might be required. The clamor continued until after nightfall, as more ships arrived bearing more nauseous men eager to set foot upon unmoving ground. Do beasts suffer at sea as some men? I wondered if such a malady caused their skittishness.

  Arthur and Uctred erected our tent near to the city wall and soon after I fell to sleep to the continuing din of ships being unloaded which carried on the still night air. Were any of the French king’s spies about, they would know of our arrival even were they far outside the city wall.

  Lord Gilbert and the other great barons who led our campaign were eager to be off as soon as all men, beasts, and supplies reached Calais. But one ship was lost in the crossing, fetching up on the shingle to the south of Calais as her captain tried to beat north across the wind but failed. Four men and three horses were lost, and barrels of oats and salted pork. I’d no thought when I heard of the wreck how great was the loss of a few casks of corn and flesh.

  Until we set foot in Calais no man of our company knew where we would go next. We soon learned of our destination. The Duke of Berry had entered Aquitaine, and Prince Edward required of our force that we march with all haste to join him at Bordeaux.

  We remained in Calais for two days, repairing carts, setting up traveling forges so as to shoe horses, and organizing the march. None of this was work for me. I wandered about the town, gazed over the sea toward England and my Kate, and kept out of the way of those who had business and needed no advice from me to complete it.

  From Calais to Bordeaux is more than three hundred miles. I rode my palfrey alongside Lord Gilbert for most of the first day, and he told me that ’twas his hope to reach Bordeaux by Assumption Day. Such a schedule would require six miles or so each day. I thought such a plan optimistic. Carts break down, and the runcies pulling them tire. Beasts and men go lame, and the French king would surely throw impediments in the way of our march.

  At nearly the sixth hour our party crested a hill. From the eminence I could see our force both before and af
ter, snaking its way across the verdant French countryside. Stragglers were lost in the dust of our passage more than a mile to the rear.

  Victualers and harbingers went ahead each day to seek food for men and beasts and shelter for the night. For the first week beyond Calais all was well, but as we passed beyond Rouen our difficulties began. We were entering lands ravaged by free companies, where villagers had been robbed of their grain and animals so often that they had developed a system of mutual aid. Whenever an army such as ours approached, folk would warn others in our path, church bells could be heard sounding a warning in distant villages, and when we came to a town or village it would be deserted, inhabitants having fled to fields and forests, barns empty, and goods of value stripped from houses.

  Surely there was corn hidden somewhere near these villages, but we were charged with appearing before Bordeaux as soon as possible. We could not take time to scour the countryside seeking meat for men and fodder for beasts.

  Our casks of salted pork and stockfish and grain were soon diminished. Our beasts could crop the grass of meadows each night when our march halted – although without oats they would soon weaken and be in no fit condition to draw a cart or bear an armored knight.

  Men, however, require provender, and little was to be had. Lord Gilbert required that our company go on short rations. My stomach growled continually for a fortnight until we reached Le Mans and found grain and flesh. The burghers of Le Mans were no doubt true to King Charles, their lord, but did not refuse English silver pennies and shillings.

  We departed Le Mans with carts heavy with grain and salted pork and purses lighter. The purses remained lighter, and the carts soon became so. By the time we reached Tours and could replenish our larders we were again on short rations.

  And a new affliction began to annoy our travel. We marched through lands of the French king, and to trouble our progress his minions had poisoned wells as we approached. We found dead goats, sheep, boars’ heads, even fowl in wells, making the water undrinkable. We could not water our ale, so that also was in short supply. So when our expedition reached Tours we were hungry and thirsty as well.

  It was not only houses along our way which were empty. Village churches were also. No candlesticks, plate, jeweled reliquaries – none of the fixtures common to a church – were to be found. Many of our band sought such plunder, and were out of joint that none was to be had. What is the purpose of war if, in return for the risk, there is no profit?

  Three days beyond Tours, shortly after we had halted for the night and set a kettle of pottage to boil, Uctred appeared in the circle of firelight. He had gone to the verge of a nearby wood to relieve himself. I saw him stagger as he came into view, as if stumbling upon some rock unseen in the gathering gloom.

  ’Twas Arthur who first saw the blood. He sat nearer to the place where Uctred entered our circle of tents. He leaped to his feet and guided his friend close to the fire, the better to see what injury Uctred had received. As the two came near to the blaze I saw also the red flow dripping from Uctred’s beard and leaped to offer aid.

  I thought at first the groom might have tumbled over a stump or some such thing invisible in the fading light. Not so.

  “Three men,” he said through thickening lips. “Set upon me when me chauces an’ braes was down.”

  “Who?” Arthur asked.

  “Dunno. Too dark.”

  Most of the gore dripping from Arthur’s beard came from his nose. ’Twas likely broken, and for such an injury there is little to be done. I told the fellow to sit upon a bench which had been drawn near the fire, and gently prodded his nose. ’Twas not much out of joint, which he was pleased to learn, and I stopped the bleeding with two small patches of linen from my instruments chest. There was nothing to be done for Uctred’s lip, which I could see would, on the morrow, be swollen and discolored to match his nose and eyes.

  “You’ve made an enemy of someone,” I said when my ministrations were done. “Who might it be?”

  Uctred shrugged. “Try to live peaceable, like, with other folk.”

  I knew this to be true.

  “Don’t know who I’ve angered.”

  “Three men, you say?” I asked.

  “Aye. Think so. ’Twas near to dark, an’ I was too busy tryin’ to escape their blows an’ kicks to count.”

  “What can you remember of the knaves? Did any seem familiar? Did one wear a garment you recognized, or might recognize if you saw it again?”

  Uctred was silent for a moment, then spoke. “One was smallish. No more’n a page, I think, an’ he wore a red cap with ’is liripipe coiled queer-like about the side of ’is head, so’s it covered an ear.”

  “Sir Simon’s men,” Arthur said. He had seen how some in Sir John Trillowe’s employ had copied Sir Simon’s attempt to conceal his malformed ear.

  “Mayhap others have taken to wearing their liripipes in such a fashion,” I said. “We must not be hasty in assigning blame.”

  “Never seen any but them as with Sir Simon wear their caps that way,” Arthur growled.

  “Nor have I. That does not mean that none do so. Tomorrow morning we will gather a few of Lord Gilbert’s men-at-arms and stroll past Sir John’s tents. If Uctred sees a page he can recognize we will then plot some way to see justice done.”

  He did.

  Next morn, while some of our party struck our tents Arthur, Uctred, and five other of Lord Gilbert’s men joined me in search of Sir John Trillowe’s camp. I was unsure of what was to be done if and when we found the villains.

  The camp was astir as men stretched, scratched where they itched, rubbed sleep from their eyes, ate and drank what they could find, and made ready for another day’s journey.

  Sir John’s party was but a hundred paces from Lord Gilbert’s tents. Sir Simon was seated upon a bench before a rekindled fire and looked up to see who passed. He first scowled, then, as his eyes fell upon Uctred, I saw his face assume a smirk. He turned away and said something over a shoulder.

  With the clamor of those breaking camp all about I could not hear Sir Simon’s words, but he must have called to some of his company to attend him, for a few moments later four men appeared from beyond one of the tents which yet stood. These four followed Sir Simon’s gaze and watched our approach. One was short and slight, and wore a red cap with liripipe coiled so as to cover an ear.

  Much like Sir Simon’s.

  I turned to Uctred. “Yon lad with the red cap … was he one who attacked you, you think?”

  “Could be. Not many who have red caps, an’ fewer who wind their liripipes in such fashion,” he mumbled through thick lips.

  “Wait here,” I said to Uctred. “You’ve taken enough blows recently.” To the others with me I said, “Do not draw your daggers unless they draw first, but be ready.”

  “What have you in mind?” Arthur said. “Shall we deal with them as they did Uctred?” His tone indicated that he hoped I would answer affirmatively.

  We seven approached Sir Simon’s five and when he saw that we drew near with thin lips and scowling brows he stood and called his men to come near.

  “I give you good day, Master Hugh,” Sir Simon said with mock courtesy. “How may I serve Lord Gilbert’s … bailiff?” The use of my title in such a fashion was to put me in my place. It was not successful.

  I placed hands on hips and assumed a resolute posture. I am too slight to assume this well, but Arthur, at my side, did likewise and is more successful at threatening with only stance and gaze.

  “One of Lord Gilbert’s men,” I said calmly, “was attacked last eve. Your men were responsible.”

  “My men? Surely not. We are peaceable fellows, are we not?”

  Sir Simon grinned and turned to the four who now stood close behind him as he spoke. I saw his hand fall to his sheathed dagger. “You are mistaken.”

  “No mistake. Your quarrel is with me, not that man,” I said, nodding toward Uctred. “You lost a fair maid to me, were required to pay for my
house, which you destroyed, and have now a misshapen ear – better than no ear at all, which would be true had I not sewn the appendage back to your ungrateful skull.”

  Color rose in Sir Simon’s cheeks as I reminded him and his men of his past losses, most of which were due to his own blunders. Decisions have consequences.

  Sir Simon then made another foolish decision, which, as I look back upon the event, I see I had goaded him to do. May the Lord Christ forgive me. Sir Simon drew his dagger. Instantly ten other men did the same; Sir Simon’s four men and the six of Lord Gilbert’s company who stood behind me. I alone left my dagger sheathed, although I was ready to draw, for my blood was up.

  “Aye,” Sir Simon said, “and ’tis you I shall deal with.”

  “You have already tried.” I rubbed my chin. “My injury has healed. But if you come near me with that dagger we are seven to your five. The odds are not in your favor, and when the fight is past and you lie in the mud with slashes about your body, you can seek another surgeon, for I will not stitch you back together another time.”

  “Bah. What do I care for that?”

  Sir Simon’s reply was more confident than the expressions upon the faces of his minions. I saw them glance toward us as we stood opposed to them, and then to each other. Their valiant demeanor began to fade from resolute to anxious. Arthur, standing at my side with a dagger in his hand and a frown upon his face, will do that to a man.

  “Uctred’s nose is broken,” I said calmly. “Someone must pay for the injury.”

  “When you find the guilty man, require satisfaction of him,” Sir Simon said. “Till then, leave us or suffer the consequences of your impudence.”

  “I have found the men. Uctred’s nose is worth two shillings, I think. He will have the coins of you, as you and your father are responsible for the deeds of your men.”

  “You will have two shillings of me when the Holy Father offers his chair to that heretic Wycliffe.”

  “Two shillings will be less costly than losing another ear,” Arthur said from behind my shoulder.