RESURGENCE: The Come-back of the Anglo-Saxons after the Norman Conquest

RESURGENCE

The Come-back of the Anglo-Saxons

after the Norman Conquest

A novel by Phil Tamarr

© Phil Tamarr 2018

Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

Chapter 01: Assault on Limoges Cite- Fortress

Chapter 02: Capture of French Counts for ransom

Chapter 03: The 14th C Army

Chapter 04: Montague and Black Prince confer

Chapter 05: Serjeant Petrie’s challenge

Chapter 06: Lancaster and the prince fall out

Chapter 07: Tyler on the rack

Chapter 08: The lord’s revenge

Chapter 09: Farewell to France

Chapter 10: Trouble in Kent

Chapter 11: A monk is liberated

Chapter 12: King Richard alerted

Chapter 13: Old comrades from France

Chapter 14: A visit to Beaver

Chapter 15: Master of London

Chapter 16: Capture of the Savoy

Chapter 17: Death of a maiden

Chapter 18: Smithfield

Chapter 19: The end-game

Chapter 20: Escape to St Albans

Chapter 21: Reunion of Lancaster and son

Chapter 22: John Ferrour – mystery man

Chapter 23: Lancaster’s curiosity

Chapter 24: Hold-up of a coach

Chapter 25: Normans create own version of events

Chapter 26: Sound advice

Chapter 27: Ferrour honoured by the duke

Epilogue

Appendix

Glossary

Prologue

The Prince habitually took with him on his expeditions a large body of those rough labourers called miners. These were immediately set to work and began driving rapidly forward with their mine.

*Froissart’s Chronicle, 1400

Chapter 1

Assault on Limoges Cite- Fortress

As the rider dismounted a boy ran forward to take the reins of his mare while the erstwhile horseman walked towards a huge double-door embossed with iron studs and knocked with his fist. One half of the door was opened away from him and a doorman invited the rider to enter. The sound of his boots on the tiles of the corridor inside resounded in the empty hall. He strode towards a table and stopped in front of it set against the whitewashed wall on his left. Seated facing him was a man in a blue velveteen coat adorned with shining silver buttons and the visitor made a cursory bow before speaking:

Sir Simon Burley!

Burley looked at the visitor with a scowl and barked: It’s Tyler; as slovenly as ever. Give me your summons and quick about it, Sirrah.

The man addressed drew himself to his full height of nearly six foot before languidly opening the pouch fixed to a wide, brown leather belt and was about to hand it over but then paused to examine it close-up before slowly stretching towards Sir Simon who snatched it and quickly opened it out. He rose directly to knock at another double-door facing him. Within a voice was heard:

Entrez!

Listening to the voices the visitor heard a command and Burley reappeared motioning the visitor to step inside. He did so smartly and heard the door close behind him and walked towards what appeared to be a low bed. Seated, covered with an embroidered sheet across his legs, was a man in a light dressing-gown who smiled as he spoke:

Welcome, Captain Tyler. It’s been a long time since...

Carcassonne, Your Grace!

Tyler beheld the speaker, Prince Edward, whose face and features had lost its remembered bloom being somewhat drawn with hollow cheeks though the prince noticing his guest’s look of concern roused himself to present a semblance of heartiness that he cannot have felt. He said in a low voice:

I’ve sent for you, Captain Tyler because I need your services, badly. Know ye the City of Limoges? No matter! Burley will give you the details. We must do another Carcassonne, Captain. It will be my last because, as you see, how low fortune has deserted me.

He paused to examine his recumbent form and Tyler answered:

Will you be there, Sire, I mean at Limoges?

Nothing will keep me from the place, Captain, though I don’t move so quickly these days. Yet, never fear, I shall be there but pray do not go near the Cite until my headquarters have been moved to the English camp.

The prince paused to get his breath as the interview was evidently tiring him; Tyler said:

I take it, Sire, the French are in occupation.

The prince smiled gratefully, saying: You always were quick, Captain. You’ll hear the full story ere long. In the meantime, here is my warrant.

Then, taking a scroll from a side-table added: This ring used to sit on my finger but.. In explanation he slipped it on and slanted his hand downwards and the ring slipped off his hand onto the cover. He picked it up and handed the ring to Tyler, explaining:

Note the ‘P’ for Plantagenet. My warrant is in French and will be recognised by every Norman in my entourage. So, until our reunion in Limoges, Captain, bon chance!

A decade after a peace treaty, concluded between the Black Prince and the French commander Bertrand de Guesclin, in 1360, the latter decided his forces were strong enough to drive the English away from French territory, and, after a short campaign, his soldiers had attacked and taken a number of English-held fortresses. One such was the Cite´ of Limoges commanded by the Bishop of Limoges, a trusted lieutenant of the Black Prince, and godfather to Edward, the Prince’s eldest son, but on hearing the latter had died, the bishop felt himself released from his loyalty to the Prince, and surrendered the fortress to a French squadron, commanded by the Duc de Berry.

Enraged by the bishop’s treachery, the Prince, then living at La Rochelle, determined, though laid low with dropsy, to travel the forty miles to Limoges and besiege the fortress and win it back. First he sent for Captain Tyler and his company of miners who could perform this feat. Subsequently he requested that they meet him at his camp, near Limoges, and when a messenger told him the miners had indeed arrived, he immediately sent for their captain, Wat Tyler to attend him, again. The prince, no longer able to ride a horse and having to be carried everywhere on a litter, received him this second time in his tent and wasted no time in acquainting Tyler with the task ahead beseeching the miner to gain him and his army an entry, at all costs. He was anxious to know, at once how it was to be accomplished.

He was angered with the defiance of the bishop, and wanted to lose no time forcing an entry into the walled Cite´ but there were some logistical and political reasons driving his agenda forward. The politics of his position was the thousands of French people with whom he had no quarrel. For the greater part they occupied the walled town known as the chateau, which in the thousand years since the Romans had left, had developed into a thriving town at the crossroads of several important trade routes as well as the original crossing point over the River Vienne.

Around 12,000 people lived there, some of whom had moved out and into the neighbouring Cite upon the approach of the Prince's army from la Rochelle, but most had remained hoping the religious significance of the town would spare its destruction as they knew of the piety of the Prince. The town possessed three churches, but the most famous of these, by far, was that dedicated to the 11th century Saint Martial, whose bones were laid to rest within the precincts of the abbey. It was a stopping off place for pilgrims on the way to Santiago del Compestela, in Spain.

Reports reaching the Prince told how du Guesclin, who had prevailed upon the Bishop of Limoges to change his allegiance, was several days march away, so should the siege be protracted, the Prince would face resistance on two fronts, and might be forced to withdraw. Hence his sending for his miners to under-mine the foundations and by various additional means to cause the masonry to collapse and produce the breach through which his soldiers could enter.

The close proximity of the fortified town/chateau and walled Cite´ was common in the formerly Roman occupied Gaul, now France, and more often than not Roman buildings had been plundered in the construction of medieval fortifications. The unique character of Limoges arose out of the town's two-fold importance as an economic and religious centre while the Cite´, not only controlled the trade on the River Vienne but included the cathedral of St Etienne, seat of the bishop of Limoges, within its walls.

Although the town/chateau had refused entry to the Prince the townspeople did not display overt hostility, so he concentrated his investment efforts upon the Cite´, the seat of the bishop in his cathedral of St. Etienne, the bishop who had broken his solemn pledge. Apart from time constraints, the pious prince was never desirous of wantonly damaging religious buildings, and by adopting a proven tunnelling method was confident his miners would soon effect an entry. He would also economise on provisions, having brought only a week’s supply with him for his army and though willing to pay for additional supplies, anxious, as he was, to retain the goodwill of people in the surrounding countryside, yet money to pay for them was tight.

All these reasons militated against a long campaign, but he was confident, based on previous projects, that Captain Tyler and his miners would shortly yield him the Cite´. So, on his arrival at Limoges and even before he had set up his tent sent for Tyler and addressed the miner concerning the operation:

Know ye what must be done?

To which the miner replied:

I’ve reconnoitred the walls of the Cite´, Sire, though keeping my distance as you told me in La Rochelle and in my opinion, we must excavate beneath one of the towers, I would prefer the north, which’ll take several weeks. At which, the impatient prince cried:

So long?

But Tyler not abashed, replied: My men will work nights, Your Grace, and at this time of year, they be short. It’ll be damnably hot and sweaty, back-breaking work, and..

His response was interrupted by a commotion outside the tent being put up as they spoke. It was a voice yelling in Norman French demanding to see the prince followed by the sudden entry into the interior of a tall man dressed in a sumptious red surcoat across the breast of which was emblazoned the arms of the Duke of Lancaster, three castles in one corner emphasised by a red and gold slash. He greeted the prince with angry comments who responded in the same tongue with a gentle reprimand:

Your words and language are wasted on my present company, My Lord. Have a word with Sir Simon, John, as to time and place. Now I beg you withdraw for I have urgent business....

The duke apoplectic with rage left the tent scattering everybody in his haste and the prince carried on as though nothing untoward had occurred, saying:

I know something of your task Captain. Were we not there at Narbonne? D’you recall that siege? But tell me, what’s this I hear about a black powder?

‘Tis called gunpowder, Sire. But can be vexatious if not handled with the utmost care. It will greatly hasten the destruction and increase the conflagration.

The prince rubbed his hands which Tyler saw as a sign of satisfaction and smiled at his next words:

Come Captain, let’s have all the details. Men, materials, mechanics; I want to know everything!

During those hot days in September the arduous work continued. Tyler had divided his miners into teams, who worked in shifts, stripped to the waist, and who, at first, attracted the attention of onlookers, but they had retreated after a few days because of the danger of missiles from the castle. Subsequently only a few brave soldiers dared to approach near the edge of the semi-circular trench surrounding the miners’ works. And, because of this danger, no-one would dare approach any nearer.

Acting under the prince’s orders, John Hastings, the Duke of Pembroke, had positioned longbow-men behind a surrounding protective palisade. The whole area was dangerous not only for the miners, and unwary onlookers, but also for messengers who had to cross the no-man’s land between palisade and trench. Behind the crennelated walls atop the battlements nothing appeared to move, yet there were still measures the defenders could take to make running the gauntlet across no-man’s land a very hazardous undertaking, by day.

Only a day or so before, a messenger had been hit as he ran towards the miners’ deep trench. The most dangerous time was early morning and late evening as shadows were longest at these times provoking a shower of bolts aimed into the air on a steep trajectory. The defenders could not aim directly for fear of being hit by Pembroke’s ever-present archers who were themselves out of range of crossbows, so the defenders shot randomly into the air the instant a shadow was spotted. The dead messenger had been killed by such a random bolt and had lain there all day, the blood from the head wound attracting hordes of flies.

Tyler had to send another with his spoken message and only at night was it safe to remove the body. He had suggested to his contact, the Duke of Pembroke, whom the prince had designated as liaison officer, that a communication trench be started to enable messages to be carried with less danger from bolts. It seemed the duke could spare nobody so Tyler himself had to detail his own men to do the extra work.

Even so it was only a shallow trench so that a man had to bend low lest he knock his head against the protective timbers laid across the trench to ward off any missiles raining down. Then the defenders tried to ignite the timbers with flaming arrows but the unseasoned timber would only smoulder. The miners themselves, previously protected by a temporary roof, once inside the first layer of masonry, were now better protected from boiling water, pitch or molten lead, which the defenders, using long ladles, let fall.

The hot liquids dropped harmlessly into the earth only occasioning a yelp of pain from a splash onto the bare torsos of miners, dripping in sweat, hard at work in their tasks of undermining the wall. To protect his men against this bombardment, Tyler had rigged up a curtain behind which they worked which, though reducing their light, also protected against the hot sun.

Tyler himself did not work, except to supervise, until it came to making the bore holes to hold the gunpowder-filled grenades, when he personally took charge as a trail to each grenade was prepared, if not actually run, until the time came to fire the mine. Also, he got his miners to let him know the precise location of any reinforcing ironwork they found. Such iron could be the Achilles heel of a thick wall as its expansion set up irresistible forces to cause the masonry to fracture and burst asunder in spectacular fashion, as had been proved at other fortresses.

After several days, Tyler eyed their handiwork, all thirty feet or so of it, with an appreciative eye. He shouted to Filkin, his deputy: What do you reckon, Morgan? The Welshman said sardonically: I’ve got a job for you, captain, when we’ve brought this lot crashing down, Caernarfon Castle in north Wales.

To try to form a mental image of the Cite of Limoges, the reader might recall seeing pictures of Caernarfon Castle in north Wales surrounded by a seemingly natural body of water to form a moat; or, indeed, nearer to London, the photogenic Leedes Castle in its idyllic county setting. The Cite and fortress of Limoges is alas no more as, often in internal conflict, Limoges bore the brunt of royal anger being occupied by the king’s subjects, in rebellion. The monarchy took steps to emasculate the castle and eventually its very masonry was removed to form the foundations of arterial roads in that region of France.

At the time of the prince’s siege however, the Cite straddled the River Vienne which had been partially diverted to form a moat though the amount of water in the moat depended upon the state of the river. A long, dry spell saw the drying-up of parts of the moat which explains the choice of the site by the Prince and his miners. That part of the wall was almost dry.

From the distance of the mansion the prince had commandeered to overlook his mine, he was disappointed in that soon after erecting scaffolding to enable them to work on the higher reaches of the battlements, the miners had further cloaked their activity by dropping an enormous canvas screen. This was eminently practical as, initially at least, it shielded their bare torsos from molten lead as it splashed against various objects, not least the ground. Pembroke stood down his archers as the defenders saw the futility of their efforts to dislodge the miners.

That did not explain however why the French defenders were significant in their absence from the battlements although Tyler would discover the reason for this later. Perhaps the flinty ringing of hammer and chisel upon masonry of the castle walls interspersed with miners’ shouts as they feverishly called for this or that was a constant reminder of the defenders’ impotence. Tyler’s men were partially protected by their removal of the first skin of masonry, which needed shoring up however to prevent a precipitate crash before they were ready to fire the mine.

Yet five days into the work, Tyler and crew had made a discovery which reminded them of Rochester Castle. In the days of King John one of the towers had been besieged by the king in a successful attempt to dislodge a number of rebellious barons. Being short of money as usual, the king had failed to rebuild the tower to its former strength. The people who had worked on this repair work were, of course, the serfs of Kent, whose sons were now in the service of the Prince, in Acquitaine.

To Tyler and his merry men, this was an opportunity. The miners had been recruited from the ranks of longbow-men many of whom were serfs, or villeins, in the parlance of the age. They had discovered they were the innocent parties to a swindle against the Prince by their masters, lords of the manor, who, while paying them a penny-a-day for their service, charged the royal exchequer fourpence-a-day. The lords, all estate holders, required their skilled yeomen to be working at their trades in England and had discovered that their villeins were as good at archery as the erstwhile yeomen, hence this swindle. The prince won his battles, the lords kept their yeomen where they were needed. Everyone gained – excepting of course, the underpaid villains and of course, the prince.

Yet these same villeins in the service of their country had learned that archery could keep them alive, as for example, in the forests of England, where, evading the gamekeeper to stalk a deer was just another form of warfare, where arrest or capture meant death. So they became adept at shooting off one quick, accurate arrow, and disappear - fast. Indeed villeins, demobilised after service in France, were no longer returning to their manors to resume their bondage. They were moving further afield into other villages, even to towns. Estate owners were at their wits end to stem this tide of desertion, short, as most estates were, of serjeants, shire-rieves, even magistrates. This was largely due to the depradations of the Black Death, decades earlier, for it took years to fully train such people.

Unwittingly the fact that miners were recruited from villein-archers was fortuitous accustomed as they were to back-breaking, arduous labour yet these same miners were not deprived of nous and were always on the lookout for the chance of booty knowing that when their service to the Prince had been discharged, they would be back where they started from. On the other hand, although the prince had come to realise the efforts of his miners were more valuable – and cheaper – than knights, in certain situations, he could not fail to be aware of his lords’ resentment to, what they saw as preferential treatment, as, for instance, when to speed up a mine, the prince commandeered accommodation near to the site which some lords saw, not as a practical expedient, but as an indulgence upon a lower order of being. They pointed out frequently to his highness that their squires must sleep in tents, as a result.

Nevertheless the prince was adamant facing as he often was an impudent, defiant enemy barricaded behind walls of seeming impregnability so his ability to demonstrate otherwise was wholly dependent upon such miners. And Captain Wat Tyler, and his lieutenant, Morgan Filkin, saw the way events were going. The prince was sickening and it was rumoured would soon return to England leaving behind his brother, the Duke of Lancaster, who had no love, indeed hated all miners, and archers, generally. Tyler and the others felt constrained to seek opportunities for as much booty as possible before this event; they had to if they were to escape villeinage upon their return to a hostile environment in their native land.

Six days after the first meeting, the Black Prince invited his brother, the duke, his knights and chosen entourage, who were to break through the gap that the miners had made, to a meeting in a local manor house, commandeered from its French owner. Of course, as always, at such royal events, some nobles turned up to display themselves before the royal personage. Whereas at the first meeting in a tent, makeshift arrangements had been set up for the prince, there was now comfortable French furniture, which helped allay the prince’s discomfort. He was still incapacitated, and still had to be carried everywhere by litter, and the hot weather did not ameliorate the conditions, yet he was cheerful knowing the undermining of the castle was proceeding apace.

So, with a feeling of impending triumph, he had invited his brothers, the dukes of Lancaster and Cambridge together with his half-brother, the Duke of Pembroke into the large salon of the manor house. Accompanying these high aristocrats were the lesser lords, of Montferrant, of Chaumont, and gentlemen including, Sir Richard d’Augle, Sir Louis de Harcourt, Sir William de la Pole and others of the lesser nobility.

The prince addressed the assembly:

Gentlemen! We have been kicking our heels for some days.

Here the prince looked at his own legs, joking:

Would that I could!

Yet the jest fell flat; his brothers chuckled mirthlessly while the Prince continued: None of you are looking particularly cheerful. It’s been damnably hot and dusty; too cursed dusty!

He stopped to take a sip of water. The eyes which looked upon this simple action also noticed his shaking hand, his pallor. Before resuming he coughed: None of us has had a decent meal for days; or, tasted a good wine. That’s the situation, living off Army stores. And, as you realise, in these circumstances where we need the good opinion of local people, it would be foolish to try to commandeer what we need.

Again the Prince paused but not to drink so much as gain strength. He resumed his address: So, all of us are in need of good food, drink - and sleep. God help me, sleep. He paused, his head sank but almost at once, he raised it to look at the company who were silent. Seemingly dispirited at the prince’s condition, nobody looked back at the prince; many just stared at the carpeted floor.

He spoke again, jocularly addressing his brother-in-law, the Duke of Pembroke:

Show them John. Show them the prize. The man addressed ordered lackeys to open the double doors of the manor hall, and with an extravagant sweep of his hand, the Prince called, huskily:

My prize! Our prize! The fortress of Limoges! You all recall the treachery of our one-time cousin, the Bishop, god-father to my late son, Edward. He swore fealty to me by the Holy Mother. He betrayed me. I swore by the soul of my great-grandfather. And you all know..

Anger had energised the prince but his voice had grown huskier and he might have lapsed into coughing had he not paused. He smiled at the crowd, murmuring: I don’t give such an oath lightly. I swore the fortress would be mine. Mine. He chuckled. Very appropriate, mine! Eh, Hastings! His half-brother smiled out of courtesy, not understanding the pun, and the Prince, with a half-mocking glance, once again addressed the assembled peers and gentlemen, exclaiming:

The man who will deliver the castle will shortly be with us. He has done what none of you, my noble peers and gentlemen, (a bitter note) has been able to do.

Then to John Hastings, the Prince called:

Ask Captain Tyler to join us!

Hastings duly obliged the prince, inviting someone, to step inside. There was an uneasy silence waiting for the prince’s favourite miner, Captain Tyler, to appear though on entering, the man blinked in the comparative gloom. He seemed reluctant to be there at all, as indeed was the case. At the sound of the prince’s voice, Tyler strode over to the prince, bent the knee, bowed the head before looking up to address him:

Your Grace!

The prince received him with a smile:

Comrade, you have already told me about your arrangements. For the sake of my noble company, have the goodness to let everyone else into our secret.

Then, in a lower voice said: Do your stuff, captain, as you did yesterday. Tell em! It was meant to reassure Tyler, yet his whole attitude showed reluctance and his words reflected his unwillingness uttered in a low voice:

I beg leave of your Grace to be excused.

He threw a quick glance at the restless peers and gentlemen, almost whispering:

They won’t listen to me, Your Grace. It was the prince’s brother that broke the impasse. Ever impatient, he called peremptorily:

Come, Sirrah! I promise I won’t bite your head off. This invoked laughter and in an undertone to his squire whispered:

But I’ll have his guts for my garters!

Tyler obeyed the duke and moved to the lectern where he stood unsure of what to say. The prince coaxed him:

The great day has come at last and... But the effort proved too much though it did encourage Tyler however for he started to speak quietly, nervously, and it showed how well he had been drilled by Hastings over protocol, as he addressed those assembled:

Your Grace, my lords, gentlemen.

He paused breathing deeply:

As you all know, my miners and me have been hard at it these past days undermining the walls of the castle. Just now my men are carrying carcases of swine to the walls where they’ll be put at vital spots to help in the burning, like; the wood and all that!

A voice interrupted:

Little wonder the camp is short of food when wastrels such as you steal our portions. Tyler did not answer. He did not need to as the prince angrily, hoarsely shouted:

The captain had my permission to take the pigs; carry on captain. Tell them about the timber and........... gunpowder.

Tyler resumed, after another deep breath:

My men and I have shifted tonnes of masonry from the north tower with one purpose only: To undermine the walls so that soldiers can get inside the castle. We’ve put timbers in place, but these are only temporary. When his grace gives the signal, we shall set fire to the timbers at several points. The walls will cave in."

Lord Montferrant again interrupted with a contemptuous:

And if they don’t, what happens then! And, if they don’t I shall personally stick you on my lance and toast you.

There was a murmur of approval from the impatient nobility who felt it beneath their dignity to be addressed by this low species of being. That there was no overt hostility was out of deference to the prince. Montferrant was not finished. He and others had been denied pork in the past days as he uttered his vexation:

We have empty bellies on account of you, you churl. If your scheme doesn’t work, we shall spit you instead.

He was referring, of course, to carcases of pigs placed for incendiary purposes to speed the burning. It was Montferrant’s next remark which, however, infuriated the prince:

And, what of this burning. How will that bring the walls down? The prince, seething with anger, said:

My Lord, if you don’t believe it I would suggest you make your toast there. I’ll warrant you’ll never make toast again.

The prince spoke from experience as it was the intense heat which devastated the walls, and there was a sympathetic if, sniggering chuckle. The prince invited Tyler to continue, who went on:

The heat from the blazing timber, as His Grace’s past experience has shown, will open up cracks within the masonry. The ironwork will expand. This will put the wall under irresistible pressure and the huge masonry blocks, having lost their temporary support, through the burning, will crash down.

And that is not all. The words came from the prince, who added with enthusiasm,

Go on, Captain, tell them about the grenades:

Tyler did so:

We have a load of grenades. Each is filled with explosive powder. I’ve put them at various places inside the wall. When the grenades explode it will add to the devastation. And, that won’t take long.

Here the Prince intervened talking to Pembroke:

It won’t take long brother, to open up a gap in the castle walls. You’ll need soldiers to be near enough to pour into the breach.

Then, to the company:

Gentlemen, if Narbonne is anything to go by, we’ll be eating supper tonight off the best silver platters, and drinking the finest Bordeaux in the region. He broke off, turning to Tyler, and declaring:

You’ll be my guest of honour, of course, at the celebrations.

Tyler, knowing from experience, this gesture was made to show up the peers and humiliate the company, protested:

But Your Grace…. But the prince his face wreathed in a smirk, replied:

No buts!

Then Tyler was silent realising the prince had slurred the last words. He noticed a bottle peeping from his couch. By now he stood somewhat apart, just listening to the Prince, who was now addressing Hastings, his brother-in-law:

Bear witness! On my oath! I swore to take this fortress, and will do so, thanks to Captain Tyler

Here, the prince addressed the assembly of peers:

My comrade in arms, Captain Tyler, shall be my guest of honour within the Castle.

He swept his arm over the assembly, saying: "None of you. Just my friend, the captain, here:

Because he has kept my oath for me."

In the short pause, Tyler turned and chipped in:

And two dozen of my men, Sire. And smiled, but saying no more as the prince addressed him directly:

Of course! The best Englishmen in France! Return to my side, if you please, Captain.

Tyler did so thankfully although feeling he had acquitted himself well. He heard a commotion to his right as another, inner door opened to let in a succession of smartly caparisoned lackeys. They were carrying trays which they put down upon trestle tables set up and laid with linen cloths. Another servant brought in cutlery. One pushed a trolley laden with drinks and glasses. Tyler looked at the crockery, cutlery and glassware with astonishment feeling decidedly out of place. He would have preferred to go round to the servants’ entrance.

However, the prince commanded a table to be set up near his litter and Tyler thought it was for the prince, but not so, as he was invited to be seated and help himself to a selection of viands, breads, cheeses, saucissons and other French culinary delights. A lackey wheeled a trolley over inviting him to partake of wine, brandy, liqueurs. He declined asking for water and the prince begged a glass for himself.

Tyler could not fail to notice however the snide glances and whispered comments by some of the prince’s guests. There was hostility but at present it was very much sotto voce. He realised that the prince was using him to belittle the peers who while doing nothing were a heavy drain on the exchequer. His brother, John of Gaunt, had told him that it was his choice to bring a large army from La Rochelle. The fact that it was largely idle was not the army’s fault.

Tyler had come to realise that he, and his miners, were safe as long as their services were invaluable to the Prince. Should he depart the scene, they would become vulnerable.

The prince had not indulged himself for he was under his doctor’s orders to refrain from rich food and drink. Yet while resisting food and enjoying company he could be persuaded to neglect his doctor’s advice, as on this occasion. People stood around his litter though it was clear that Tyler’s presence was inimical to the nobles. Even the squires seemed to deprecate his presence. The company ebbed and flowed.

In between the prince would address himself to Tyler who had absented himself for a call of nature and had reappeared though the prince seemed momentarily irritated he was not there. Also, he was feeling the effects of his occasional nips of brandy, and muttered to himself:

What was I saying? A certain gentleman anxious to ingratiate himself, misread the situation. Perhaps he seethed over the prince heaping favour on someone he regarded as a low form of life. This young man, recently losing his father, had assumed the title of his elder, becoming Lord Chaumont.

He shouted:

You were saying, Your Grace, before this churl made so bold as to interrupt.

He turned hoping for support from his fellow peers, but nobody returned his look, yet, foolishly, he blundered on: I’d bring him to heel, my liege.

The Prince might not have heard his first interruption because he, a little befuddled, was taking little notice but as he became aware of his presence and the words penetrated, he retorted angrily:

My lord… then, stopped as though seeing him for the first time. He said quietly, forcefully:

Step forward, young man. Chaumont did so, smiling, in evident anticipation of some favour. The Prince ordered:

Turn around, if you please, my brave one.

As Chaumont turned, glances began to be exchanged among people, who, the repast over, had returned to their places. Most had been longer in France, than Chaumont, and they detected an edge to the prince’s voice. He ignored Chaumont, and addressed the assembly, indicating the lone figure of Tyler:

I would sooner have ten of such men than ten score of such popinjays. Look at him with his peacock hose, one yellow, the other blue. And, those pointed toes laced to the knees! What d’you call ‘em? Cracowes! Very pretty, but can you bend a longbow?

Chaumont now felt foolish and uncomfortable as his peers gazed at him. But the prince was not finished:

What use are pretty legs to me? To our cause! To England’s cause!

Now, everyone realised the Prince was also referring to the nobility in general, who, at that time, were doing nothing, who ate and drank, however poorly, at the prince’s expense, with nothing to show for it.

Yet it was too much for Pembroke, and the room fell suddenly quiet as he spoke:

May I remind you, my liege. Your archers, and the other commoners need to be defended. Surely….

The Prince interrupted him:

Noble brother, I am rightly chastised. Your services as ever deserve merit in that utility, at least.

So saying, he turned from his brother to the assembly, once again, as if determined to finish what he wanted to say:

Mark you gentleman. At Najera, our left flank was covered by a wood, and it occurred to me, to cut stakes, and drill them into the ground, as a makeshift flank protection. He paused, and went on: which makes knights somewhat superfluous. The day may come, gentlemen, when the sovereign will owe a duty only unto his trusty longbow-men, and if it came to a choice between flanks.. he turned, addressing Tyler. He smiled and said:

If it should please you to indulge me, Captain: Turn towards the window!"

As Tyler took the stance asked of him, nobody could fail to notice the muscular difference between the miner’s muscle-contoured black leather hose to the flambuoyant yellow silk of Chaumont’s. Hastings standing near leaned over and whispered into his ear, who, gesturing to Tyler to stand easy, turned to Chaumont:

I’m informed my lord, you are from Gascony.

Then taking a small purse mused aloud:

It is, just as well, for my purse, you’re not from England. Then calling the lord over, handed it to him saying:

For your journey back home, my lord. This is a field of battle; and no place for such as you.

Pemroke, his brother-in-law, could contain himself no longer. He exploded:

My liege. Enough! With your leave!

And he swept out of the room. Chaumont, was also livid with rage as he stared at Tyler, as if his black looks could do the miner an injury, and made a move to follow the departing duke, but the Prince, seeing his rage, told him:

"Stay, my lord! I still have a message for you. It is to do with Captain Tyler and his associates. Should I hear, and, that goes for any of you, as well as for my absent brother John. If any of you does aught to harm my comrade, the captain, or any of the miners, you’ll answer to me, he screamed:

Do you hear? Now get out. Clear the room.

Then, as the company began to obey, the prince slurred:

Stay, if you will Captain. And you Hastings! Stay while this rabble clears the room.

As the gathering proceeded to leave the room, each gentleman contrived to avoid glancing at Tyler who stood upright, anxious as they, to avoid catching anyone’s eyes. His thoughts might have produced a smile of smugness but he disdained even that confident in his inner satisfaction that he knew something, they did not, and that something had enriched him and his friends by, not a king's ransom, but a count's ransom, and a brace of counts, at that.

He wondered, idly, whether in the mayhem about to unfold anyone would notice the absence of two French nobles, or, for that matter, care. The besieged would soon know, of course, but they were hardly in a position to notify the English that two of their number had disappeared into thin air, at least, were spirited away. Somebody might more positively miss a third person, which also is doubtful, as the wrath of the prince, if it could encompass a bishop, would not demur over the loss of a brace of counts, let alone a 'monsieur'. Somebody might call for a translator and think of Jean, then, were he not found among the dead, it might well be more cause for alarm than the absence of the two counts.

Yet the most chilling pronouncement the prince had made should have cheered him up. It was:

No prisoners!

It was spoken to the Duke of Lancaster who had no pity for anyone, let alone innocent women and children, and Tyler was sure, the duke would not query his brother’s intentions.

Come, Captain! whose thoughts were brusquely interrupted by the Prince who, with brandy glass in hand wanted to drink his health. He was at his side in the instant, met by a princely smile and invitation:

To you, Captain, and turning to his brother-in-law, admonished him: Drink up, Hastings!

Both guests followed his example by downing the draught at one gulp then, they dutifully followed the prince hurling the glasses into the fireplace where they loudly plopped.

That's a Spanish custom, I do like. quipped the prince.

In the early hours of the morning Tyler and his crew of miners set to work to prepare the conflagration and bring about the collapse of the wall of the Cite allowing the Prince's soldiers to enter. There was much groundwork to prepare not least by miners digging out the trench to their own height so that the falling masonry would have somewhere to fall into besides the purpose of undermining the foundations themselves.

Enormous amounts of combustible materials had been collected, such as brushwood and dried grass, loads of wood chippings, old and rotten joists from derelict hovels, many hundreds of used scrolls and documents. These materials were laid into and around the wooden framework which the miners had rammed and jammed into the masonry in place of the multiple courses of stones chiselled away and removed. Were anyone to observe the framework they would see wooden joists propped vertically and diagonally supporting lintels left in place for the final act of destruction.

However observation was not possible because the whole area of workings had been previously blanketed to prevent the defenders' liquid missiles such as molten lead poured from ladles which hit the ground and splashed harmlessly onto the covering fabric instead of men's bodies. The effect of the blanket would enhance the drawing effect of the flames much as one uses a sheet of paper to improve the ignition of a domestic fire.

At strategic points carcasses of swine were placed in niches scooped from masonry which when cooking would have the effect of releasing rivulets of liquid fat used in many a previous mine and proven very effective. Tyler had personally laid trails of gunpowder not to explode but to burn its way to the grenades placed within the wall.

So the miners worked away steadily each quietly doing his assigned tasks which would soon be completed yet with an ear for offensive action by the defenders, but, of that, there was no sign atop the battlements hardly needing the longbows of soldiers waiting around for this very purpose. Not a single Frenchman could be seen moving behind the merlons or creeping silently in front of the crenels. Perhaps they were hourly expecting armed relief from the forces of the French Constable, du Guesclin whereas the Prince, aware of the happenings in the surrounding countryside through his many scouts and spies, might have disabused them of any hope.

Had the French defenders been aware of the state of the wall which Tyler and his crew had been working on, it would certainly have given them cause for alarm. Tyler wondered if anyone knew the wall had been damaged in a previous siege, repaired shoddily and, after decades, forgotten about. Yet Tyler had kept the information to himself and Morgan Filkin, his second-in-command, persuaded his men, in their own self-interest, not to blab about the discovery of the gap between inner and outer walls filled in with rubble. Many planks had been needed to bridge this gap so as to allow further access to the upper reaches of the masonry, but also as a precaution against miners falling into the wide precipice they had themselves brought about.

Tyler had, though, let the prince into another miners' secret regarding the increasing use of gunpowder for laying fire trails, remotely detonating conflagrations, generating high temperatures at hot spots, and, its original use, to cause explosions. Tyler was almost disappointed that the blast effect of his explosions would be diminished owing to the gap but it was largely offset by the weakness of the structure which would bring its own reward.

The miners’ pyro-technic display did not disappoint.

Early on in the preparations, miners became aware of sounds behind them and looking around the fabric screen were surprised to see the prince accompanied by his stalwarts who had pushed his litter from the manor house and had found a place for him beneath a tree. Tyler noticed they had contrived to adjust his litter so that he was in a sitting position and discovered later it was done by means of a mechanism fixed to the underside of the litter enabling it to adopt a sitting position reverting to its origin within moments.

Tyler waved to indicate acknowledgement and carried on as there was still much to do. There was activity as miners criss-crossed the ground taking materials and tools to and from the mine. On one such errand however Tyler was arrested by the prince's enquiry. He had noticed a projection just below the merlons of the battlements and Tyler explained the purpose of the architects to inhibit the placing of ladders and therefore discourage such attacks. Tyler went on to suggest these had worked to his miners' advantage in that ladles of offensive liquids had reduced impact falling further away from the wall.

Although what the miners were doing was interesting to the prince his stalwarts were soon bored. They began talking among themselves about their favourite topic - home and the prince sought to share in these sentiments by mentioning that he would like some of his many stalwarts to accompany him, not only home to England, but after a sojourn with their families, to be with him at Berkhamsted. He also promised them some improvements in their daily diet once they had broken through the wall of the Cite´ and could get at the large supplies of stores including wine which he expected his soldiers would find there.

In this they were to be disappointed. It was not because the prince was wrong in his supposition but simply that the frustrated soldiery, without the restraining hand of discipline as exercised by his now-dead knights Chandos, Audely and others, ran amok and instigated so much arson as to leave virtually nothing of value whether edible or otherwise. In future meetings with his brother, Lancaster, this alone would make the Prince unbearably tetchy and sink relations between the two men, brothers as they were, to their lowest ebb.

It was getting light as Sir Simon Burley showed up greeting first the prince who