Free Blood on the Sand by Michael Jecks Page B

friend, I own this ship! If the French cardinal wishes to complain to the King, he may do so. I will remind them that I fight under my terms, and if they do not like them, I
reserve the right to remove myself. I gave you my word as a man of honour, and that French priest would have dishonoured me. I will not allow that. Not after the last weeks.’
    Berenger felt he understood a little better. ‘The battle?’
    Grimault shot him a look. The smile faded now as he nodded. ‘Yes, I speak of Crécy. The French asked Genoa to help in the war against you English, and then, when they went ahead on
the battlefield at Crécy and were hopelessly outmatched against your English arrows, the French rode through them and cut them down. I am told that more were slaughtered by the French
cavalry than were slain by your companions.’
    Two of his friends had been there, he said. One, Iacme, was only a boy, and had fought well for his French masters, but his reward had been an early death at the hands of a French man-at-arms.
Chrestien would find that hard to forgive or forget.
    Berenger saw his hard expression and said gruffly, ‘I was there. I saw the French ride into them.’
    Chrestien nodded grimly. ‘We know of this. All Genoa will have heard by now. It does not leave us filled with warmth and respect for our allies, to know that they slew so many of us. We
will be looking more to our own requirements in the future, rather than slavishly following the commands of the French.’
    ‘Will you come to the English side with your ship?’ Berenger asked hopefully. If he were to return to the sea, he would prefer not to have to endure another attack by a powerful
craft such as this.
    ‘No, because I have my contract. I will remain true to my word and uphold my honour. I will not overstep the bounds of common sense.’
    John of Essex had joined them, and at this he frowned. ‘But you are free to go where you will?’
    Chrestien nodded seriously. ‘Yes, my friend. But who would hire me or my ships if I gained a reputation for running? No man would want to give me a contract if I was considered a turncoat.
Nobody likes an unreliable soldier.’
    He saw the look on Berenger’s face and laughed.
    ‘Come, Master Berenger, be happy! You are free, on a fast ship, heading homewards, alive and well. And if you fear seeing my flag on the horizon again – well, be merry! All you need
do is submit gracefully and at speed, and all will be well. Perhaps next time I will take you to another French commander, one in whom I have more confidence.’
    ‘There won’t be a next time,’ Berenger said. ‘By my faith, next time we meet at sea, I will catch
you
!’
    Chrestien laughed again, but Berenger was frowning at the sea ahead.
    ‘Where are you taking us now?’
    ‘I cannot go too close to the English, for they will fire upon me and I would not have them injure my men. We shall aim for a place I know. From there it is less than ten miles to Calais.
You can walk that, I think, without difficulty.’
    ‘Certainly,’ Berenger said, but as he spoke, he glanced to the left and saw another vessel, a small fishing boat with two men labouring away. A flash caught his eye.
    It was nothing: only a brief flash behind one of the men, but it was enough to pique his interest. ‘What is that?’
    ‘What?’ Grimault said mildly, but didn’t turn his head. He stared resolutely ahead.
    Berenger peered through the slight heat haze. There was so much sparkling where the sun’s light bounced, it was like trying to stare into a mass of stars. He looked away, then back; he
rubbed his eyes and squeezed them tightly, and then, as the sea shifted and the boat dipped low in the water, he saw it: a mass of ships, tightly packed together in a river’s estuary.
    He turned away, aware of the Genoese’s prattling. Those ships were massing for a purpose, and he was sure that it would bode ill for the English.

Béatrice returned from fetching food at the market