Hawkwood's Sword: The Brand New Adventure from the Master of Historical Fiction by Christian Cameron

Author:Christian Cameron [Cameron, Christian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781409180272
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2021-07-07T16:00:00+00:00

Once again, I was losing my friends. Sister Marie was going to Paris with Michael des Roches, and then on to Cologne to her home nunnery.

‘I haven’t seen them for six years,’ she said. ‘I’ve been to Jerusalem and Rome and Santiago. It’s time I went home, before the world swallows me up.’

I fought tears, and turned to Lapot. He gave me a wry smile. We were sitting in our borrowed lodgings, comfortable around our own little hearth with our own wine, as if we were spending one more night in a tiny albergue in the mountains.

‘I’m going back to the Company,’ he said.

Marie nodded, as if this confirmed something for her.

‘I don’t have a true calling. Or rather, I think my calling is to be a knight, a good knight. Not a priest.’ He shrugged.

Mind you, that was more words than Lapot spoke in a week, ordinarily.

We drank too much. One more time, I saw Marie with her face shining. One more time, I heard Lapot’s dry humour. Des Roches, who hadn’t been with us so long, didn’t feel the same finality. He was walking to Paris with Marie.

He nodded to me. ‘You know it’s going to be war,’ he said. ‘France and Spain against England.’

I felt a thrill of panic. ‘How soon?’

‘Any day. That’s what I heard at the scriptorium today.’

Michael was earning a little money copying for the cathedral. He had a magnificent hand, the sign of a truly educated man. In fact, there and then I asked Marie and Michael to each write a prayer for me in my little book. See? Here they are.

So I wrote out letters – one for the Green Count, one for l’Angars, another for Hawkwood. And I wrote to the king of France via du Guesclin, requesting a sauvegarde. I told all three to address my letters to the commanderie of the Knights of Saint John in Clerkenwell.

I was going to England.

None of my Italian banks had factors in Santiago, but I found a Jew at the base of the hill who did business with all three banks, and had known Nerio’s father. He gave me a reasonable discount on a bill for a hundred ducats, and then an even better discount when I told him I was bound for England and would carry his letters. As it proved, and no surprise to me, he had dealing with the Bardi branch, Italian bankers in London who had offices within a minute’s walk of the Priory of Clerkenwell.

So my scrip was full, and I had enough coins to be worth robbing. As it proved, Stiofán of Leinster was happy enough to walk to Finisterre and then take ship from Corunna. So although I had many partings, I had one good friend from my Camino to lighten my mood.

The next morning, Stiofán and I were dressed as pilgrims, Sister Marie in her habit, and Lapot was again a knight. We bid farewell to Sir Gregory and Lady Tabitha, and then we walked

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