The She Wolf of France (13 page)

He scratched his greyhound's forehead with the tips of his fingers, and then leaned on the warm stone again to watch the valley. There was an old saying: `Who holds La Reole holds Guyenne.' They would hold out as long as was necessary.

For an army too easy an advance is almost as exhausting as a retreat. Having met no resistance to bring it to a halt, even if only for a day, to draw breath, the French army had been marching unceasingly for more than three weeks, to be precise for twenty-five days. The great host, with its banners, knights,
squires, archers, wagons, forges and cookers, with the merchants and brothel-keepers in its train, extended over a league of the plain. Its horses were wither-galled, and every few minutes one of them cast a shoe. Many of the knights had had to give up wearing their armour which, aided by the heat, had given them sores and boils at the joints. The footmen were wearily dragging their heavy nailed boots.
Moreover,
the fine black plums of Agen, which lo
oked ripe enough on the trees,
had violently purged the thirsty, pilfering soldiers. They were continually leaving the column to lower their breeches by the roadside

The Constable Gaucher de
Chatillon slept as much as he could on his horse. He had trained himself to
do this through nearly fifty years of the profession of arms and eight wars or campaigns.

`I
shall sleep a little,' he would
say to his two squires.

Adjusting their horses' pace to his, they placed themselves
on each side of the Constable,
so as to prop him up should he slip sideways; and the old leader, his back well supported by the cantle, snored inside, his helm.

Robert of Artois, though he sweated, grew no thinner; for twenty yards around
he diffused the stench
of a wild beast. He had made a friend of one of the English in Mortimer's train, the tall Baron Maltravers, who looked like a horse, and he had even offered him a place in his banner because he was, a great gambler and ready to handle the dice-box at every halt.

Charles of Valois'
ill-humour was not improving. Surrounded
by his son Alencon, his nephew
Evreux, the two marshals, Mathieu de Trye and Jean des Barres, and his Cousin Alfonso of Spain, he spent his time swearing at everything, at the intolerable climate, the stuffiness of the nights and the furnace of the days, at the flies, at the greasy food. The wine they served him was but thin stuff and fit for rustics, though they were in a country famous for its wines, were they not? Where did these people hide their good casks? The eggs tasted bad and the milk was sour. Monseigneur of Valois sometimes woke up in the morning feeling sick and for several days past he had been suffering from a dull pain in the left shoulder which worried him. And then the footmen marched so slowly. Oh, if one could make war with the chivalry alone! And then, had he been right to take the advice of Tolomei, supported though it was by Robert of Artois, and drag these huge bombards on their wooden carriages all the way from Castelsarrasin, instead of relying on the catapults and perriers to which he was accustomed? For though they might take longer to
put in position, they had the great advantage of being transported in pieces.

'I seem to be condemned to hot suns,' he said. `My first campaign, when I was fifteen years old, was fought in the burning heat of your bare Aragon, of which I was once King for a time, Cousin Alfonso, and against your grandfather.'

He was talking to Alfonso of Spain, heir to the throne of Aragon, reminding him, perhaps not very tactfully, of the enmity that had divided their respective families. But he could do so with impunity for Alfonso was very easy-going, and ready to do anything to please; he was prepared to go on the crusade since he shad been asked to do so, and in the meantime-to train himself for the crusade by fighting the English.

`I shall never forget the capture of Gerona,' Valois went on. `What an oven that was. The Cardinal, de Cholet, sinc
e he had no crown available
for my coronation, crowned me with his hat. I was stifled under that huge red piece of felt. Yes
, I was fifteen years old. If m
y noble father, King Philippe the Bold, had not
died of the fever he contracted
in those parts on his way home ...'

Talking of his father made him feel gloomy. He was thinking that he had died at forty. His elder brother, Philip the Fair, had died at forty-six, and his half-brother, Louis of Evreux, at forty
-
three. And he himself had turned fifty-four in March! He had clearly shown that he was the most robust member of the family. But how many more years would Providence permit him?

`And Campania, Romagna and Tuscany, those are hot countries for you,' he went on. `I marched through the whole of Italy, in midsummer, from Naples up to Siena and Florence, to chase out the Ghibelines some - let me see, if was in 1301 - twenty
-
three years ago. And
even here, in Guyenne in the yea
r 1294, it was summer. It always is summer. But when you have to fight in Flanders, it's always winter and you're up to your thighs in mud.'

`You know, Charles, it'll be hotter still on the crusade,' Robert of Artois said sarcastically. `Do you see us invading the Egyptian Sudan? It seems vines are not much cultivated in those parts. We shall have to drink the sand.'

`Oh, the crusade, the crusade ...' Valois replied with weary irritation. `How can one even tell whe
ther the crusade will ever take
place with all the obstacles people put in my way? It's all very well to devote one's life to the service of the kingdom and the Church, but in the end one grows weary of expending all one's strength for such ungrateful people.'

The ungrateful people were i
n the first place Pope John XXII
, who was still reluctant to grant the subsidies, almost as if, he really wished to discourage the expedition; but above all King Charles IV, who had not only failed to send the commission for the Lieutenancy to Charles of Valois, a dereliction which was now becoming offensive, but had also taken advantage of his uncle's absence to put himself forward as a candidate for the Empire. And
the Pope, of course, had given
him his official support. And so all Valois' splendid arrangements with Leopold of Hapsburg had fallen to the ground. King Charles was considered a fool and, in fact, was one; but on occasion he was competent enough to deal a foul
blow. Valois had received the
news that very day, August 25th. It was an unsatisfactory Feast of Saint Louis, to say the least. He was in such a bad temper and so busy chasing the flies from his face, that h
e had forgotten to look at the
landscape. He saw La R
eole only when they were before
it, within four or five bowshots.

La Reole stood on a rocky spur above the Garonne, but was dominated by a
circle of green hills. Etched against the pale sky, enclosed within her ramparts of fine yellow stone, now turning gold in the setting sun, with her steeples, her castle's turrets, and the high roof of her town hall with its open belfry, and all her crowded roofs of red tiles, she resembled the, miniatures of Jerusalem you can find in Books of Hours. A pretty town. Furthermore, owing to the height on which La Reole was set, she was an ideal stronghold. The Earl of Kent had made no error in shutting himself up within her walls. She would be no easy fortress to take.

The army had come to a halt, awaiting orders. But Monseigneur of Valois issued none. He was sulking. Let the Constable and the marshals take what decisions seemed good to them. Since he was not the King's Lieutenant and had no power, he refused to take any responsibility.

`Come, Alfonso, let us go and refresh ourselves,'' he said to his Spanish cousin.

Waking up, the Constable twisted his head' inside his helm and stuck out an ear to hear what the leaders of his banners were saying to him, He sent the Count of Boulogne to reconnoitre. Boulogne returned an hour later, having ridden round the town by the hills. All the gates were shut, and the garrison showed no signs of making a sortie. It was therefore decided to make camp where they were, and the banners selected their areas pretty much as they liked. The vines, their branches trailing between trees and
tall vine-props, made agreeably sheltered tunnels. The army was exhausted and fell asleep in the clear twilight as the first stars appeared.

The young Earl of Kept was unable to resist the temptation and, after a sleepless night, of which he spent the waking hours playing tremerel
19
with his equerries, he sent for Seneschal Basset, ordered him to summon his knights to arms and, before dawn, without sound of trumpet, left the town by a sally-port.

The French, snoring among the vines, wakened only when the galloping Gascon knights were among them. They looked u
p in astonishment only to lower
their heads again as they saw the ch
arging hooves go by. Edmund of
Kent and his companions had it all their own way among the sleeping host; they hewed with their swords, struck with their maces and their leaded flails at naked ribs and legs, unprotected by grieves or breastplates.There was a cracking of bones as they drove a path, leaving screams in their wake, through the Frenc
h camp. Some of the great lords
tents collapsed. But soon a loud voice was heard above the hubbub shouting: `Rally to Chatillon!' And the Constable's banner - gules, three pales vair, in chief or, a dragon for crest, and supporting lions - was floating in the rising sun. Old Gaucher had prudently made his own vassal knights camp a little in the rear, and now came to the rescue. Cries of `Artois to the fore!' and `Rally to Valois!' responded from either hand. Only half equipped, some on horseback and some on foot, the knights hurled themselves on the enemy.

The camp was too big and too scattered, and the French knights too numerous, to enable the Earl of Kent to pursue his ravages for long. The Gascons soon became aware of a pincer
-
movement being mounted against them. Kent had only just time to turn aside and retreat at a gallop to the gates of La Reole behind which he could take refuge. Then, having complimented his followers, he took off his armour and went to bed, his honour vindicated.

The French camp was echoing with the groaning of the wounded; consternation reigned. Among the dead, who numbered about sixty, were Jean des Barres, one of the marshals, and the Count of Boulogne, who had made the reconnaissance the evening before. It was much deplored that these two lords, both valiant warriors, should have met so sudden and so absurd an end. Slaughtered on awakening!

But Kent's prowess inspired respect. Charles of Valois himself
who, the evening before, had been asserting that he would make mincemeat of the young man, if he encountered him in the lists, had now changed his opinion and almost
took pride in saying: `Well, Mes
seigneurs, after all he's my nephew, don't forget that!"

Forgetting the wounds to his vanity, his physical ills and the heat of the season, he set himself, when sufficiently magnificent funeral honours had been rendered to the Marshal des Barres, to prepare the siege of the town. And in this he displayed singular activity and competence for, though he was excessively vain, he was none the less a very remarkable solder.

All the roads leading to La Reole were cut, and the whole region controlled by posts set up in depth. Entrenchments, gabions, and other earthworks were undertaken within a short distance of the walls to give cover to the, archers. While, in the most suitable places, the army began constructing emplacements for the bombards. It also started to build platforms for the crossbowmen. Monseigneur of Valois seemed to be everywhere, inspecting. encouraging and issuing orders. To the rear, the knight
s had set up their round tents,
from the summits of which floated their banners. Charles of Valois' tent, placed in a position from which it could dominate both the camp and the beleaguered town, was a veritable palace of tapestried hangings. The whole camp was situated in a huge amphitheatre under the flank of the hills.

On August 30th Valois at last received his commission as the King's Lieutenant. His mood changed at once, and from then on he seemed to have no doubt that the war was as good as won.

Two days later, Mathieu de Trye, the surviving marshal, Pierre de Cugnieres and Alfonso
of Spain, preceded by sounding
busines and the white flag of envoys, advanced to the foot of the walls of La Reole to summon the Earl of Kent, on the order of the most high and puissant Lord Charles, Count of Valois, Lieutenant of the King of France in Gascony and Aquitaine, to yield and surrender, into their hands the duchy in its entirety
, in default of loyalty and the
rendering of homage due.

To which Seneschal Basset, who had to stand on tiptoe to look over the battlements, replied, on the order of Edmund, Earl of Kent, Lieutenant of the King of England in Gascony and Aquitaine, that the summons could not be accepted, and that the Earl would not leave the town, nor hand over the duchy, unless he were dislodged by force.

Now that a state of siege had been declared in accordance with the rules, each side went to its tasks.

Monseigneur of Valois put to work the thirty miners lent him by the Bishop of Metz. Th
ey were to tunnel underground
galeries beneath the walls and place in them barrels of powder which would later be exploded. Engineer Hugues, who belonged to the Duke of Lorraine, guaranteed miraculous results from this operation. The walls would burst open like a flower in spring.

But the besieged,
becoming aware of the muffled sounds of tunnelling, put tanks of water on the ramparts. Whenever they saw the surface of the water ripple, they knew the French were digging a sap below. They dug saps from their side too, but at night, for the Lorraine miners worked by day. One morning, the two galleries met and an appalling butchery took place underground by the dim light of lanterns. The survivors emerged covered with sweat, black dust and blood, their eyes as wild with horror as if they had returned from Hell.

But now the firing platforms were ready and Monseigneur of Valois decided to use the bombards.

They were huge tubes of thick bronze bound with iron hoops, mounted on wooden wheel
-
less carriages. Ten horses were needed to move each one of these monsters, and twenty men to load, aim and fire it. Each was surrounded with a sort of box-like structure of heavy beams to protect the gunners should the bombard explode.

These engines, which came from Pisa, had been delivered first to the Seneschal of Languedoc, who had sent them on to Castelsarrasin and Agen. The Italian crews called them
bom
barda because of the noise they made.

All the great lords and the commanders of banners were assembled to see the bombards work. The Constable Gaucher shrugged his shoulders and said with a growl that he did not believe in the destructive effects of these engines. Why place your trust in such new-fangled things, when you could use good mangonels, trebuchets and perriers, which had proved their worth over the centuries? What need had he, Chatillon, of the founders of Lombardy to reduce the towns he had taken? Wars were won by valour and the strength of men's arms, not by having recourse to the powders of alchemists which stank rather too much of the Devil's sulphur.

Beside each bombard the gunners lit a brazier and set an iron rod to become red-hot. Then, having loaded the bombard by the muzzle, introducing the powder with huge spoons of beaten iron,

followed by a wad of tow and then a huge stone ball weighing approximately a hundred pounds, they placed a little powder on the top of the breech in a groove which communicated with the charge inside by a touch-hole.

The spe
ctators were asked to withdraw
to a distance of fifty paces. The gunners lay down with their hands over their ears; only one
remained standing by
each bombard to set fire to the powder with the long iron rod which had been heated in the brazier. As soon as they had done so, they, threw themselves to the ground and lay flat against the beams built
round the
carriages;

Red flames gushed forth and the ground shook. The noise rolled down the valley of the Garonne and was heard from Marmande to Langon.

The whole air about the bombards turned black with smoke. The back ends of them had sunk into the light soil with the recoil. The Constable was coughing, spitting and swearing. When the dust had dissipated a little, it was discovered that one of the balls had fallen among the French; it was a wonder no one had been killed. Nevertheless, it could be seen that a roof in the town had been holed.

`A great deal of noise for very little damage,' said the Con-' stable. `With the old balisters with weights and slings, all the balls would have reached their target without one's being asphyxiated into the bargain.'

In the meantime, within La Reole, no one could at first understand why a great cascade of tiles; should suddenly have fallen
into the street from the roof of Master Delpuch, the notary. Nor could the people make out where the thunderclap that reached ; their ears a moment later came from since there, was not a cloud in the sky. But then Master Delpuch came rushing out of his house, shouting that a huge stone ball had fallen into his kitchen.

Then the population ran to the ramparts only to discover that there were none of those great engines which were the normal equipment for sieges in the French camp. At the second salvo, which was less well aimed, the balls starred the walls, and the defenders were forced to the conclusion that the noise and the projectiles came from the long tubes lying on the hillside with a cloud of smoke hanging over them. They were seized with panic, and the women rushed to the churches to pray against these inventions of the Devil.

The first cannon-shot in a Western war had been fired.
20

"On the morning of September 22nd the Earl of Kent was asked to receive Messires Racoon de Labison, Jean de Miral, Imbert Esclau, the brothers Doat and Barsan de Pins, the notary Belie de Malenat and all six jurats of La Reole together with several burgesses who were accompanying them. The jurats presented to the Lieutenant of the King of England a long list of grievances, and in a tone that was far from being one of submission and respect. The town was without food, water or roofs. The bottoms of the cisterns were showing, the floors of the granaries were being swept, and the population could no longer stand the hail of balls which had fallen on it every quarter of an hour for more than three weeks now. People had been killed in their beds and children crushed in the streets. The hospital was full to overflowing with sick and wounded. The dead were lying in heaps in the crypts of the churches. The steeple of the Church of Saint Peter had been hit and the bells had fallen with a sound like the last trump which was clear proof that God was not supporting the English cause. Moreover, the time for the grape harvest had come, at least in the vineyards the French had not ravaged, and the grapes could not be left to rot on the vines. The population, encouraged by the landowners and merchants, was ready to rise in revolt and fight the soldiers of the Seneschal, if necessary, to force the surrender of the town.

While the jurats were talking, a ball whistled through the air and they heard the sound of a roof caving in. The Earl of Kent's greyhound began howling. Its master silenced it with weary irritation.

Edmund of Kent had known for several days past that he would have to surrender. He had continued his obstinate resistance for no valid reason. His few troops were exhausted by the siege and in no condition to repulse an assault. To attempt another sortie against an adversary who was now solidly entrenched would have been mere folly. And now the townspeople of La Reole were threatening rebellion.

Kent turned to Seneschal Basset.

`Do you still believe in reinforcements from Bordeaux, Messire Ralph?' he asked.

It was not the Seneschal, but Kent himself who had believed, against all the evidence, in the arrival of these promised reinforcements, who were to take Charles of Valois' army in the rear.

Ralph Basset was at the end of his tether and had no hesitation in accusing King Edward and his Despensers of having let the
defenders of La Reole down to a degree that amounted to a betrayal.

The Lords of Bergerac, Budos and Montpezat looked no happier. No one felt like dying for a king who showed such little concern for his most faithful servants. Loyalty seemed to be far too ill-rewarded.

`Have you a white flag, Messire Seneschal?' asked the Earl of Kent. `Very well, have it hoisted on the top of the castle.'

A few minutes
later the bombards fell silent,
and there reigned over the French camp that profound stillness of surprise which, tends to greet an event that has been much longed fo
r. Envoys emerged from La Reole
and were conducted to the tent of Marshal de Trye, who informed them of the general terms of surrender. The town, of course, wou
ld be handed over; but the Earl
of Kent must also sign and proclaim the handing over of the whole duchy to the Lieutenant of the King of France. There would be no pillage nor prisoners taken, merely hostages and an indemnity to
, be fixed
later. Furthermore, the Count of Valois invited the Earl of Kent to dinner.

A great feast was prepared in the tent embroidered with the lilies of France in which Monseigneur had been living for nearly a month. The Earl of Kent arrived in his best suit of armour, but pale and doing his best to conceal beneath an air of dignity his humiliation and despair. He was accompanied by the Seneschal Basset and a number of Gascon lords.

The two Royal Lieutenants, conqueror and conquered, conversed with a certain coolness, though calling each other `Monseigneur, my nephew' and `Monseigneur, my uncle', as if even war could not break family ties.

Monseigneur of Valois made the Earl of Kent sit opposite him at dinner. The Gascon knights began gorging themselv
es as they had had no chance of
doing for many weeks.

Everyone did his
best to be courteous and compliment the adversary on his valour as if it were question merely of a tournament The Earl of Kent was congratulated on his spirited sortie, which had cost the French a marshal. Kent replied by showing great admiration for his uncle's dispositions for the siege and his use of the bombards.

`Listen, Messire Constable, and all of you,,Messeigneurs,' cried Valois, `to what my noble nephew says! Without our bombards the town could have held out for four months! Remember that, all of you!'

Kent and Mortimer watched each- other across the platters, goblets and flagons.

As soon as the banquet was over, the principal leaders went into-conference to negotiate the act of surrender, which had numerous articles. Kent was, in fact, prepared to yield on every point, with the exception of certain clauses, of which one cast a doubt on the legitimacy of the King of England's power and another placed Seneschal Basset and the Lord of Montpezat at the head of the list of hostages. For since these last had arrested and hanged officers of the King of France, their fate would be only too certain. But Valois insisted that the Seneschal and the man responsible for the rebellion at Saint-Sardos should be handed over to him.

Roger Mortimer was present at the negotiations. He suggested he should have a private conversation with the Earl of Kent, but the Constable opposed it. You really could not allow the terms of an armistice to be negotiated by a, deserter; from the opposing camp! But Robert of Artois and Charles of Valois trusted Mortimer. So the two Engl
ishmen went apart into a corner
of the tent.

`Are you really anxious, my, lord, to return to England at once?' Mortimer asked

Kent made no reply.