The King's Dogge (20 page)

We waited expectantly; Swartz's plan was obviously not a simple one. He was now on to the fingers of his other hand. Broughton cocked his head for a few moments and then turned to me excitedly.

‘I understand maybe one word in a hundred, but I think Swartz is talking about a night attack,' he whispered.

I let Swartz talk for a few more minutes and then I poked Haldi.

‘Can you give me a synopsis of his plan?'

‘His plan?'

‘Yes, for the night attack on the French.'

Haldi looked puzzled, but then his face cleared.

‘You are mistaken, my lord,' he said cheerfully. ‘Martin Swartz knows of no way to defeat the French. He was, however, explaining why a night attack could not work.'

I put my head in my hands and groaned – dear God, what a mess!

‘Would you like to hear his detailed reasoning as to why it would not work?' enquired Haldi helpfully.

‘No, I don't! Just ask him if he knows of anything that could work. Neither Broughton nor I can think of anything.'

A moment later Haldi turned back apologetically.

‘He regrets that there is no logical way to defeat the French. The only way that the Burgundian columns could get anywhere near the French Army was if they were invisible.'

I don't know what reaction Haldi expected from me. Possibly he thought I would be angry at such facetiousness or just look disappointed, but my lack of response evidently worried him as, after a moment, he touched my shoulder and asked if I felt all right. With an effort, I focused on him.

‘I'm fine, thank you.' Then I pointed to Swartz. ‘Tell him that I know how to make men invisible.'

For a small man with a frail manner, Martin Swartz should have been an unremarkable orator, but as he spoke that evening in Maximilian's tent he had his audience's undivided attention and not just because he had my public backing.

Quietly, but with complete conviction, he took the Burgundian nobles, his fellow officers and Maximilian through the French's probable battle tactics. Watching the assembled crowd's faces change from scepticism to interest, it was clear they all believed him. But when Swartz described, with mathematical precision, how the French could annihilate both columns successively, their interest turned to despair.

After he had finished delivering his account, there were a number of questions, but Swartz answered these in a tone of calm efficiency and gradually, as his explanation of the French battle plan unfolded, the spaces between the questions became longer and longer. It was as if the men inside the tent came to realise the hopelessness of their situation and the inevitability of defeat.

Maximilian looked at Swartz heavily and asked a question. Swartz gestured at me and, prodding Haldi, I stepped forward.

‘There is a solution, Your Highness. It is an unusual one, but it will work.' I paused, conscious that everyone was staring at me. ‘The only way to counter the threat of those crossbowmen is to conceal your advancing column from them so that you can be on top of them before they realise you are there.'

A shouted question from Strolheim interrupted me. Haldi translated.

I winked at Broughton.

‘I have it on particularly good authority that a night attack would not work,' I replied. ‘It is difficult to advance pikemen in such conditions and the French would know we were coming. There would be sufficient light to fire at us and the result would be as Martin Swartz has already advised.'

It did not seem tactful to point out that as soon as it was explained to the Flemings that they had to attack at night because they faced 3,000 crossbowmen firing from a defended position, most would promptly desert. I tried to be diplomatic.

‘Your idea is cleverly thought out though…'

There was another bellow from Strolheim. Haldi swallowed.

‘He asks what your solution is.'

‘To shoot fire-arrows.'

There was silence and then a murmuring in the tent, which I duly ignored.

‘We will not use normal arrows, but will shoot fire-arrows in front of the French line. The stubble will burn easily in the ground, since it is so dry. There is no water to extinguish the fires and, after a few volleys, we should have created a fire sufficiently big to make enough smoke for the Count of Romount's column to approach unseen.'

There was total silence for a moment and then an excited babble of German and French chatter erupted. Haldi did not bother to translate, but I could see from the excited expressions and smiles that the idea had caught their imagination. A few moments ago, they had been facing the prospect of total defeat. Now they were imagining the vast column advancing through billowing fire and smoke to burst unexpectedly on the unprepared French. Instead of being destroyed before they had even reached the French line, they could now picture slaughtering the French without even so much as a shot being fired. I watched the happy expressions and heard jovial laughter.

Swartz and I exchanged smiles and I raised my hand.

‘And now I would like my captain of archers to explain how we will operate the fire-arrows.

Prudently, Thomas David kept his speech short. Only a few of the archers would carry fire-arrows. The remainder would protect them and shoot at any French who attempted to leave their lines to try to extinguish the fires. Someone asked a question, which Haldi translated. Thomas David looked at me and I stepped forward to answer.

‘There will be no protection to the flank of the column because there will be no attack on it. Remember that the French plan has one key objective – the separation of our two columns. It follows that if they are to slow down and harry our smaller column, then they want our larger column to advance as quickly as possible, so they may destroy it before firing on the smaller column. Now the way we will counter their plan is by starting the fires before the column makes its final advance. The range of the fire-arrow is shorter than that of a normal arrow, so it will be necessary to have all those archers advance in front of the column within range of the French crossbowmen, while their colleagues shoot at the enemy line and guard their flanks against horsemen. As such, the column should pause 500 paces or so from the French lines until the archers had done their job and advance when they see fit.'

There were sounds of approval and another question. I looked at Thomas David.

‘We can fire three fire-arrows a minute,' he said, ‘and at least ten normal ones. We are hoping that the French will not be tempted to fire at us, but will retain their shots for the column. When the fires start they will probably shoot, but by then it will be too late for them. Now, coming to what we will require; I need linen, ropes, fire-pots…'

Maximilian interrupted me, and Haldi gestured to the German officers.

‘He says they will ensure that he has all you require immediately. He says that he will donate his tent for linen and ropes. He asks if anyone disagrees with either the analysis of the French tactics or the proposed battle plan.' I was relieved to see that no one did. ‘Then it is the duty of everyone to assist and add improvements to the plan that has been outlined. The army will march tomorrow. The battle will be fought in three days' time and he is totally confident of victory.' There was the beginning of applause, but Maximilian held up his hand to prepare to make a final point. ‘He says he is grateful to Martin Swartz and the English.'

The gathering broke up happily and Thomas Broughton nudged me.

‘We seem popular, don't we?' he muttered. ‘Shall we see if Maximilian's servants will let us have some of his wine?'

Later, Haldi found us and led us outside. He took us to Strolheim, who was surrounded by a group of six or seven olive-skinned, dark-haired men, some of whom wore aprons. They were shouting at him excitedly; one was waving an arrow, I noticed. Strolheim hushed the chattering crowd and spoke to Haldi who turned to me.

‘He says that they are men from Milan. They care for Maximilian's cannons. They have watched your men shooting the fire-arrows and have a suggestion to help you, but we cannot understand them.'

Communication must always have been a problem for the mercenary forces of Duke Charles, I reflected, and now it looked as if Maximilian had the same problem. But surely there must be someone in the army who could speak to the Italians, or how else could they be instructed what to do or where to go? Unfortunately, he was not here now.

Broughton stepped forward.

‘Shall I try?'

He turned and slowly began to talk. There was an eruption of noise from the cannon-master's assistants. Strolheim bellowed at them and indicated for the oldest of them – a small wiry-haired man – to come forward. Clutching the arrow, he began to talk slowly, with Broughton frequently stopping him, requiring clarification on a particular word or two. The discussion was lengthy, not least because, despite Strolheim's shouting and occasional kicks, the others kept interrupting in order to assist in the explanation.

Finally, Broughton turned to Haldi.

‘I think I understand about one word in ten; they seem to be saying that they can make the fires much bigger.' He grinned and, mimicking the enthusiasm of the men from Milan, threw out his arms. ‘Much, much bigger!'

‘How?' Thomas David joined us with more of the German officers.

‘I'm not sure I understand fully,' said Broughton. ‘But I think they want to mix some of the powders they put in the cannon with linen. They wrap the linen round an arrow and aim it to wherever there is already a fire.'

We all frowned at each other.

‘The powder would just blow off,' said Thomas David shortly. He looked at Broughton. ‘Will you try again, Sir Thomas?'

Seeing our confusion, the Italians clustered round Broughton. Out of sheer frustration, one began to add miming gestures while the others spoke, not that it seemed to help. Then one of the German officers grabbed Haldi and said something quickly. Haldi nodded slowly.

‘He says that the powder is stuck to the linen. He says it has something to do with the inside of animals.'

‘The only animals here are the oxen for the cannon,' I said.

Using a stick, the German sketched out a crude picture of a cow in the dust. The men from Milan nodded and continued with a garrulous explanation. The older man took the stick and pointed to the cow and indicated that they needed two. Then, holding up the arrows, he looked at Thomas David and indicated that he should be given more.

The arrows were not a problem; we had sufficient supply. But with two oxen removed, the chances were that the third cannon could no longer be moved. I looked at Strolheim, who chewed his lip and then nodded to the cannon master.

‘Give him the arrows he needs,' I said to Thomas David.

In the largely flat countryside, the French positioned themselves in the only place that offered them a small natural advantage. Not that the river had any water in it – the scouts hastened to assure us – but as it was dried out it provided a natural ditch. It was not deep though and would not be a serious obstacle when we eventually arrived at the site.