Kemp by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788630931
Publisher: Canelo Digital Publishing Ltd
Published: 2018-03-28T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Early the following morning Norwich rode out to where Holland’s men had pitched camp. Holland greeted Norwich outside his tent. ‘Orders?’

Norwich nodded, dismounting. ‘My lord of Warwick requests that you and your men accompany him on a reconnaissance to the north today, to a port called Barfleur.’

‘I know of it,’ said Holland.

Norwich started to rummage around in one of his saddle bags. ‘By the way, before I forget,’ he said, producing Martin’s coverchief, neatly folded. ‘His

Majesty asked me to see to it that this was returned to its rightful owner, with his gratitude,’

Holland chuckled, and waved Preston across. ‘Return this to Kemp, would you?’

‘Aye, sir.’ Preston took the coverchief across to where his men were breakfasting. Martin had already finished eating, and was polishing his broadsword with all the pride of new ownership. Preston tossed him the cover-chief. ‘With his Majesty’s compliments.’

Martin dropped the rag he had been using to polish his sword and caught the coverchief one-handed before he had a chance to recognise it. He had not expected to see it again, and was astonished that the king had remembered to arrange its return. He held it delicately, as if it might dissolve in the morning breeze. The coverchief that had stanched the king’s blood – his coverchief.

‘Now there’s a souvenir for you,’ remarked Rudcock, as Preston stalked away.

Martin slowly unfolded the coverchief. It had even been laundered and pressed, and smelled strongly of lavender.

‘The blood’s been washed off it!’ Conyers exclaimed in disbelief. ‘What kind of a souvenir is that?’

Martin grimaced. ‘I don’t want my coverchief stiff with blood!’

‘Ah, but it weren’t any old blood,’ Conyers pointed out. ‘That were the king’s blood, that were! You could’ve kept it for ever, to show to your grandchildren.’

‘I haven’t got any grandchildren,’ said Martin, winding the coverchief about his neck once more. ‘I haven’t even got any children. Not yet, at least ways.’

‘Well then,’ said Conyers, with a leer. ‘You’d best not waste any time when you get back to that girl of yours.’

Rudcock grinned. ‘What’s the point, since he’s not got owt to show them anyway?’

Sitting down to join them, Newbolt caught the tail-end of the conversation. ‘What’s the point in our being here at all, that’s what I’d like to know,’ he grumbled. ‘No towns or manor houses to be burnt, no churches or holy places to be sacked, no old men, women or children to be threatened, harmed or molested? The king don’t want archers, he wants a bunch of God-damned friars!’

Conyers laughed. ‘I wouldn’t trust a friar to leave the women alone.’

‘Jankin’s right, though,’ said Lefthand. ‘What’s the point in us being here, if not to pillage and burn French territory?’

‘To fight the French, perhaps?’ Martin suggested sardonically.

Lefthand scowled. ‘Don’t talk daft. If we come up against Valois’ army, we might as well dig our own graves. We’ll be outnumbered a hundred to one. Isn’t that right, Daw?’

Oakley scratched his grizzled jaw. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. The odds were against us when we faced the French at Morlaix, but we still beat them.

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