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Chapter 4
Minsterworth examined his nails. They were perfectly clean, but it meant that he didn’t have to look into the fat face of Knolles.
“This ale is good,” grunted Knolles. “Get me another will you.”
Minsterworth didn’t reply, but stood and walked to the bar, his long legs carrying him in a few easy strides. “Another ale,” he said as the pot-boy looked up at his approach.
“Two?” the boy enquired.
Minsterworth shook his head. One flagon of Norfolk ale was plenty enough for his stomach. He was thirsty but didn’t trust this place to serve anything more palatable.
He walked back to the tables where Knolles sat, his shoulders hunched over, his back to him. The broad back would be a perfect target, but Knolles, he knew, always wore a brigandine full of well-fitted plates under his leather riding clothes. And then there was the dense mass of muscle and fat that any blade would have to pierce. No wonder the French found him so hard to kill.
Minsterworth returned to his chair in the window of the tavern, but did not sit, preferring to look out of the pebble-glass windows. “Looks like rain coming.”
“Sit down,” said Knolles.
Minsterworth obeyed, but made a point of scraping the chair slowly along the floor and then pulling it in again with as much kerfuffle as he could manage. “When do you think we might be on our way?”
“The ale here is good.”
“We can’t stay here all day. We’re already over fifty leagues from Wincheslea and Rye. The ships should be ready to sail any day.”
Knolles didn’t reply.
Minsterworth drummed the table with his long fingers. Knolles sipped his ale. Minsterworth began playing with the rings on his fingers, sliding them back and forth and spinning them. Rings he’d got in France, campaigning with Knolles.
“This is the biggest campaign we’ve ever financed ourselves,” said Minsterworth. Why should he be scared of Knolles after all? Wasn’t he an equal partner in the venture? “There’s a lot of money riding on this one. And then the King and Gaunt, they’re expecting us to achieve something big.”
Knolles drained his flagon. “Let’s go outside.”
Minsterworth smiled. At last they would be on their way. They could finish their business in Norfolk and be back with the army and the fleet in a few days.
For a large man Knolles moved quickly and by the time Minsterworth had settled the pennies on the counter for their drinks and gathered his things he could see Knolles taking a leak against a tree across the lane. Getting ready to ride. That was good. There was a breeze in the air, a wind coming off the Norfolk broads and Minsterworth felt his balding head was cold. He must have left his hat on the table in the tavern and turned to fetch it. It was a broad-brimmed pilgrim’s hat, ideal for keeping the sun off, but it had a steel cap underneath the central dome to keep blades off too. He’d wondered about whether wearing it might help him pick-up a nickname. The “pilgrim of death” perhaps. But Knolles had told him that one was already taken.
Knolles finished his pissing and bent and picked up an object in front of him. “Looking for this?”
Minsterworth turned and stared. Knolles was holding his hat and he could see that it was brimming with steaming fresh piss. Knolles tipped the hat and let the piss pour slowly into a puddle in the dust of the lane.
“Lost for words are you?” said Knolles as he walked up to stand a few feet away from Minsterworth. “First time for anything I suppose.”
Minsterworth shook his head, trying to shake the disbelief loose from his mind. “What are you doing?” he asked. “This ... this isn’t like you. What have I done?”
“Let’s call it a little lesson for you,” said Knolles. “You’re the one that has changed, you know, now that you are feeling rich having invested in this campaign. How much was it? One thousand marks?”
“One thousand pounds actually,” replied Minsterworth regarding his hat. That would cost a pound to replace at least.
“And you think that makes you important don’t you. You, Buxhill, Bourchier and Grandison, all of you, with your claim to equal shares of the command.”
“That’s what we agreed. You signed the indenture as well.”
“I’ll piss on that if you want me too. I don’t care a sod for that indenture. The only one that matters is the one that says the king has agreed to pay me ten thousand pounds to put an army in the field against the French. An army of four thousand men under my command. As authorized, in case you didn’t hear, by the king.”
“But we’re partners.”
“In a way yes. You’ll get your share of the booty and the ransoms, don’t you worry about that.”
Where did Knolles begin his career? As a carpenter was it? Barely more than a serf, and now here he was pushing around a belted knight. Minsterworth’s family were related to barons. But what could he say? Knolles was the most successful leader of English armies, aside from the Black Prince, of the last twenty years. And Minsterworth would be a much poorer knight if he hadn’t signed up to Knolles’ company all those years ago.
“Why are we here?” asked Minsterworth. “Just tell me that and you won’t have to piss in my hat again.”
Knolles smiled and Minsterworth felt a pressure lift from his shoulders. He always relied on making Knolles smile or even chuckle once in a while when conflict arose.
“It’s private business. Let’s leave it at that.”
“In which case why have you dragged me here?”
Knolles smiled, but to himself this time. “And leave you alone with my four thousand. Do you think I trust you enough for that?”
Minsterworth half-smiled, half-frowned as if to say Ah a funny joke. But perhaps, Robert Knolles you are right not to trust me?
“I think you’ll enjoy the two families were visiting though. The d’Aubrays and the Stones. There might be an interest for you there, I think.”
End of Chapter 4
I will post one chapter each week, there are 14 chapters. If you just can’t wait, you can buy the complete book at Amazon, B&N, Kobo, iBooks, and Smashwords.
You can sign up for my newsletter, follow me on Twitter, or like my Facebook page. For more information, see my website marklord.info. Your support is appreciated. Thanks for reading!
