A Devil of a Man (1) - Call to Arms

Hugh Fletcher was keeping a watchful eye on the two comely wenches who were serving a group of ebullient youths occupying his tavern.

He wanted to make sure that the jolly atmosphere did not degenerate into bawdiness. 

One of the boys was trying to steal a kiss from the more attractive of the two girls while she, coyly, rejected his advances but at the same time was flattered by his attention.

The publican, who was concentrating on the scene, hadn't noticed that a man had entered the inn until a stentorian voice commanded:

“Drinks all round, landlord!”

Those magic words had the immediate effect of making the boys forget their amorous intentions and lick their lips in anticipation of free drinks.

Hugh turned round and was surprised to see his ex-comrade-in-arms, Robert Miller.

“You, old rascal,” he exclaimed, “how are things in Finchingfield?”

“Pour me a yard of ale and I'll tell you all about it.”

“There you go, on the house!”

Robert put the long glass to his mouth like a trumpet and, to the applause of the assembled crowd, emptied its contents in record time.

Hugh signalled to the serving girls to start filling up pint glasses to dispense to the thirsty guests the ale promised by the visitor, then pulled up a chair and sat next to his pal.

He wasn't fooled by Robert's jovial tone and knew that he was going to be given an update on the progress of his nephew John who had been a thorn in his side for the last three years.

Their friendship had started when the two of them had joined the  King's army as longbowmen to fight ever-present real or perceived enemies. 

They were no longer active combatants; Hugh was managing an alehouse because he had been forced to retire due to an injury sustained during a fierce skirmish, Robert was still employed but only as a trainer of raw recruits in the art of archery.

It was Robert Miller who had come to Hugh Fletcher's rescue when trouble threatened to rear its ugly head in the Hawkwood household.

                                                                                         *** 

1340 was a momentous year. It was the year when King Edward III proclaimed himself king of France thus upsetting Philip VI who had assumed the crown.

It was also the date when Gilbert Hawkood, a prosperous owner of a tannery, died.

His second son, John, was 17 years of age. The first son, also named John, inherited all the land and properties, which left his namesake and a younger brother, Nicholas, almost destitute.

The latter opted for an ecclesiastical career but it was a path that did not suit the adventurous nature of John.

He was fascinated by the tales of his uncle's derring-do and had decided to follow his uncle's footsteps and become an archer.

He was so determined that he did not mind the strict regime of archery training to which Hugh and Robert subjected him. 

But, like any other teenager, he had an eye for an attractive girl.

During a gruelling training run, he stopped for a breather near Hedingham Castle, the De Vere residence. 

It was a hot day and not a soul in sight. The fresh water of the river Colne looked inviting; he undressed behind a bush by the river bank and dived in.

Refreshed, he came out but could not find his clothes. He searched frantically and was beginning to panic when he heard a young girl giggling. A blonde, nymph-like maiden was waving his breeches.

She had watched him swimming naked and his muscular body had aroused a frisson in her limbs.

He chased and caught her, they wrestled and ended up sprawled on the grassy river bank. On impulse, he kissed her on the lips and felt that she was responding.

From the direction of the castle, a young woman was running towards them calling out: “Beatrice, Beatrice, where are you?”

“Goodness, my governess! Quick, you better vanish, we mustn't be seen together.”

The girl was obviously of a social status superior to his, but he didn't give a fig about class distinction and she didn't seem to mind mixing with a commoner.

“When shall I see you again?”

“I know who you are and where to find you,” she replied.

They met several times after that and a relationship developed.

Although they were discreet, soon tongues began to wag. Rumours spread and news that they had secretly married reached her parents.

                                                                                         ***

“Do you remember the kerfuffle that ensued?” Hugh asked Robert. 

“ Not half!” was the emphatic reply. “It was such a hue and cry.”

The officiating priest of the clandestine wedding found to his surprise that an isolated parish in Flanders, all of a sudden, needed his pastoral care.

The family had wasted no time in managing to annul the marriage.

Beatrice's father outraged that the reputation of the apple of his eye had been besmirched, threatened to inflict so many whiplashes to his daughter's seducer that he would rue the day he set eyes on her.

John, fearing for his life, had to go into hiding waiting for the storm to die down.

Robert Miller offered him shelter at his home in Finchingfield. Not far away from Hedingham, but far enough to evade the wrath of the enraged parent.

“Has he got over her?”

“No, he still believes they'll get together one day but it is a forlorn hope if you ask me.”

“How is he, otherwise?”

“Full of resentment; he thinks the whole world is against him. He is ready for battle and says that by hook or by crook he will climb the ladder to show those pompous aristocrats that he is their equal.”

“Good to know that he is motivated by ambition. He will soon have the opportunity to show his mettle.

I have been informed that he and 300 men from Essex are to sail tomorrow from Harwich on the cog Thomas. The King has requisitioned a fleet of 200 cogs to transport personnel and victuals to France.”

“Don't worry, Hugh. I too have been summoned to travel with the rest of the troops and will take good care of the boy.”
                                                                                          *** 

It was a cold and windy morning and a slight mist had descended over the sea. A young Essex boy and his protector stood shivering on the quayside.
“If visibility improves and the sea is not too choppy, we shall be in Calais before nighttime,” said Robert Miller.

 

 

© Luigi Pagano 2024