A hero’s journey begins in an exhilarating new series by Griff Hosker.
In 1335 the Black Death was just thirteen years away from England but there were other threats and dangers. Young John Hawkwood is forced to leave his home and seek a life in London. There he learns how to survive and, more importantly, how to fight. Leaving his life as an apprentice tailor he follows the army and King Edward to fight the Scots. He has a skill; he can not only use a bow, but he can use a sword and his mind. It is the start of a life of war for the young man.
He fights first in the Low Countries at the battle of Cadzand before heading to Gascony to fight under the charismatic leader and cousin of the King, Lord Henry Plantagenet. As he fights so his skills improve and the novel follows his progress until he fights in the two great battles of 1346, Crécy and Neville’s Cross.
This is just the start for John Hawkwood who will become, in the fullness of time, one of the greatest condottiere the world has ever seen, a man who, at the Battle of Castagnaro in 1387, shows the world that he was a great leader, too.
I came across Sir John Hawkwood whilst researching something else. I made a note of his name and when I had a quiet moment between novels I started to research the man who won the Battle of Castargno in 1387. As soon as I began to delve into the man I knew I had to write a series about him. He began life as an apprentice tailor in London but with a few years was an archer serving King Edward III. He fought at Crécy and later at Poitiers where he was knighted by the Black Prince. When he died he was one of the richest soldiers who had ever lived and he had moved from being a long bowman, through a life as a,man at arms to a company of mercenaries.
This novel is the first in a series which will chronicle, in fiction, the story of this remarkable man.
Below is a link to a video I made.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TtzoVTg3DEA
Excerpt
I took my hand axe to use as a shield and held my hand and a half sword in my right hand. The bascinet I wore and the arming cap beneath, along with my leather brigandine were my only protection. Michael was next to me and he had his shield as well as a coif. He was too young yet to do much other than to protect my right side, but this would be a good experience for him- if he survived.
The Scots who had preceded the spears had all been slain by our archers so that all we had to do was to avoid the hedgehog of spears. The archers behind us had had their supply of arrows replenished and they thinned out the enemy as they approached. Some Scots managed to keep coming even though they had two or even three arrows sticking in them. They would succumb to their wounds eventually, but they looked like men determined to stay with their brothers! I admired that. The first spears were spread far enough apart for us to either avoid them or to chop at them with our swords. They were an unwieldy wooden weapon. Michael blocked two with his shield and I knocked a third up in the air before stepping into the gap we had created to ram my sword into the screaming face of a red-bearded Scotsman. I tore the sword out sideways and spattered the men next to him with blood, bone and brains. I quickly stepped back as a spear came from further back. I hacked at the wooden shaft with my axe and bit a huge chunk from it. Even as I rejoined Michael I saw an arrow, I knew it to be Robin’s from the fletch, strike a Scot in the chest. The range was so short that it buried itself up to the feathers! The other archers were sending arrows into the sky and when they descended, they struck Scotsmen.
A Scottish man at arms, mailed from head to foot and with plated greaves advanced towards me. He had a war axe and a shield. “Michael, stand back!” This would be a hard fight for the archers behind me had no clear target and I could not allow the men of Hartburn to risk death against this warrior. I had to use my two skills: speed and strength. I feinted with my sword and made as though I would jab to his head. As he swung up his shield, I hacked my hand axe at it and bit a large chunk from the bottom of his shield. I quickly stepped back onto my right leg as he swung his own, longer axe. It barely missed me. However, the swing could not be easily stopped, and I brought my own sword down and struck his shoulder. He grunted as something cracked. I stepped forward and swung my axe at the centre of his shield. An ominous crack appeared. I knew he was hurting for instead of swinging his axe at me, he tried to head-butt me, and I pulled my head back out of the way before he could connect. Knowing I had the advantage I swung again at his shoulder. He could not raise his arm and my sword slid along his mail and bit into his coif and then his neck. With blood spurting, he fell in a heap. The archers continued their arrow storm and the Scots endured it for as long as they could but, defeated they fell back.
As the men around me cheered I looked and saw that one battle, the one which had not engaged, now left the field. They had seen what we had done to one battle and were not brave enough to risk almost certain death. They would head north and plunder their way home! We now outnumbered the Scots!
Lord Neville shouted, “Archers, surround them and rain death upon them. Make the sky look like thunder and deliver England’s wrath upon them!”
I grabbed my bow and a bag of arrows which had been brought up and I ran with Robin to stand with the archers of Lancashire. We sent so many arrows into the Scotsmen that we ran out and more had to be fetched. While they did so our men at arms entered the fray. Hitherto they had just watched but now they participated, and they attacked the larger number of Scottish knights and men at arms. When our arrows arrived, we picked off the Scots who were further back. I heard a Scottish voice order a retreat. It was what we had done so successfully at the start of the battle. The Scots did not have the same discipline and within a short time, the retreat became a rout as men tripped and fell. While the men at arms ran back for their horses, the rest of us ran after the Scots. This was too good an opportunity to spurn. Running, stopping and loosing arrows, we went on until we had no arrows left. I slung my bow and drew my axe and my sword. With Michael close behind me, we ran on catching and slaying the slower of the Scots until the mounted men at arms overtook us.
I raised my arm, “Now we can stop.” I saw that I had most of the men of Hartburn with me. I smiled at them, “Today you all became warriors. When we return to the battlefield take what you need from the Scottish dead for that is the price they pay for failure and is your reward for courage. You will be better equipped so that if they are ever foolish enough to come south again, then you shall meet them well armed and equipped.”
When we reached the battlefield Captain Philip was helping the healers to tend to the wounded. Walter of Whitton had had his arm laid open and he was being stitched. He had been lucky for a yeoman who lost a limb lost his livelihood. I went back to the man at arms I had slain. I stripped the mail from his body as well as the greaves and metal sabaton. His war axe would also be handy as would his helmet and coif. I knew that I had a helmet but having a spare as well as an extra suit of mail could not hurt. We were still on the battlefield, scavenging, when a wounded King David was brought in. His capture made the victory complete. We left the battlefield after dark and took the food the Scots had brought to cook.
