A Devil of a Man (14) - On the Throw of a Dice

They say that I am illiterate. Not openly; they whisper it sotto-voce behind my back; the rumour gradually spreads and takes hold.

The irony is that this slander is perpetrated by people who can't even spell my name – John Hawkwood – properly.

It has been Latinized as Johannes Acutus, translated into French as Jean Hccoude and Giovanni Acuto in Italian.

Rather than admit their inability to pronounce it properly, the explanation given is that the Italian version reflects my artful subtlety and deceptiveness.

I ask you, would I be able to keep a journal if I were, as suggested by many, illiterate?

I may not be an academic, as I have graduated at the 'University of Life', but was taught by my Uncle Hugh how to read and write in addition to mastering the military arts.        

Reading the accounts of my exploits by chroniclers such as Matteo and Filippo Villani. Pietro Azario, and Jean Froissart, I have noticed a lot of misinformation and inexactitudes.

As regards my personality, they describe me as brawny and devious, but seldom as brainy and clever.

I have decided to maintain records of my actions so that future generations will hear straight from the horse's mouth what really happened. Posterity deserves to know the truth.

It is not unusual for an organisation as big and diverse as ours to have divergent opinions, so it was rather surprising that news of my appointment as the leader of the White Company did not cause any ripples and the new chain of command was accepted without opposition even from the previous incumbent, Albert Sterz, who I was replacing.

No one raised any objection when a representative of the  Anziani del Popolo di Pisa (Pisa's People's Elders) made the announcement, which was met with complete silence, and no one congratulated me apart from Caterina.

She is not part of the troops nor a camp follower but the proprietor of a fondaco whom I met when I visited the place to ensure they had enough provisions to sustain us during the winter months.

Her establishment is a replica of the Foondaco dei Tedeschi in Venice. It is smaller in size but it combines all the functions of its counterpart: inn, warehouse, market and some living quarters.

The latter were for domestic use and for honoured guests, one of which I soon became.

Although Caterina owns the fondaco, she is not an innkeeper or a trader but a noblewoman who likes to gamble and dared to accept a challenge from a rich suitor by playing a game of dice with him.

The stakes were the surrender of her virtue, if she lost, and the acquisition of his business premises, were she victorious.

I know it is a rhetorical question but I still ask it.

“Did you win?”

“It so happens that I'm still virgo intacta," she tells me. 

Not for long, I think, if I have anything to do with it.

The unlucky loser suspected she may have used weighted dice, this being the usual artifice of crooked gamblers, but, true to his gentlemanly upbringing,  conceded defeat graciously; did not demur and handed over the deeds of the property. 

“Would I?” she says with a smile when I ask her if she cheated. 

“It wouldn't be an honourable thing to do in order to safeguard my honour,” she adds.

***

 As I said earlier, I went to the warehouse to check on the quantity of provisions that we could count on to last us for the approaching winter months and also for a planned surprise expedition against the  Florentine army.

In the course of our conversation, perhaps to impress this exceptional lady, I told her of my recent elevation to commander of our company and she congratulated me warmly on my attainment, at the same time advising me not to follow her example of taking hazardous chances but to be cautious in my endeavours.

I questioned her closely about the topography of the region to acquaint myself with potential obstacles we may encounter on our intended raid.

She spoke at length about the mountainous terrain, covered in thick vegetation, that lay between Pisa and Florence and which route may be better.

“It depends on how quickly you want to reach your destination; the easier one takes longer,” she explains. 

One thing we don't talk about is the weather conditions. Possibly, because this is Tuscany, we take it for granted that they will be favourable throughout the year.

Much as I enjoyed our tête à tête, I had to return to the camp. My men were ready to march in darkness through the night for an unexpected assault on the enemy's fortifications.

I thanked my host for her gracious hospitality and bade her a formal adieu.

© Luigi Pagano 2024