The Free Company - Book VII: Closure

Stephane stood beside his horse as he watched the exchange between the Baron and de Bracy. He was too far away to hear what was being said be he could see the tension between the two men. As he stood there holding on to his horse the adrenaline that moments before had been pounding through his veins giving him a feeling of invincibility dissipated leaving him light headed and dazed at what had just happened. In his first real battle he was surprised at the ease there was in killing his first man as once again excitement surged though his body as the violent memory filled his head. Even when the battle intensified and swirled around in a chaotic dance of man and horse he knew that this was where he belonged. His revelry was interrupted as he heard the Baron again say something to de Bracy that caused the man to hesitate. Then de Bracy’s shoulders sagged and no one had to be told that the battle was over.

Stephane felt a wave of rage sweep over him as he looked across the field at the retreating Free Company. Why weren’t they attacking? As some of the young knights started moving off he muttered a curse and leaped into his saddle. He jerked his horse around and looked at the knights still there, all young and eager to earn their king’s praise. His eyes flashed and he raised his sword above his head.

“Who is with me? For France and king!”

With that final cry he charged down the forest road after the retreating infantry with a band of likeminded roosters in close pursuit.

The forest closed around them faster than they had thought, but fire was in the blood as they trotted fast down the road. Who could stop them now? Who indeed?

Oct 21, 1450, Afternoon: The Forest Road

The French attacked in no sort of formation. They barely even qualified as a mob, since the word implies a sense of mass. The French knights came down the road in a strung-out straggle, and when they turned the last corner to see the banners of their enemies ahead of them, they lowered their lances, dug in their spurs and charged, each one of them alone. It was as if having forgotten nothing and learned nothing of Crecy and Courtrai, they were bent on recreating in minature those two famous disasters.

To a point, their very disorganisation aided them. As the arrows began to hiss from the trees on either side and the horses began to stumble and rear, there was space for those behind to rein left or right, stay clear of their falling comrades and keep charging. But there was no unity, no armoured fist of men and horses to smite the upstart infantry before them and beat them aside by sheer weight. Those Frenchmen who made it to waiting infantry did so as individuals and struck them as individuals, one agaisnt a hundred, lone lances against a disciplined wall of pikes.

The impact was tremendous.

Oct 21, 1450, Afternoon: The Forest Road

The impact was tremendous.

As quickly as the knights hit the wall of pikes, they died. Those that survived the initial strike were quickly unhorsed by the infantry's counterattacks, and once prone, the heavily-armored flower of French chivalry was at the mercy of peasants with sharpened sticks. The momentum of Stephane's charge quickly ebbed, spending its energy throwing itself at the Free Company pikes.

Those soldiers unfortunate enough to be at the very point of impact of each Frenchman's charge toppled and fell, but those behind them stepped forward, shielding their comrades as those who could rose again.

This was the pikemen's hour.

With the French straggling into the fight, the massed formation of archers was not nearly so effective as it might otherwise have been. But nothing could pierce the wall of Free Company pikes, not even the sheer determination of the French aristocracy. As the charge faltered, Baer bellowed the Company infantry forward, and the slow, inexorable advance of his pikes and halberds pushed up the road. Those Frenchmen who could retreated through a hail of arrows back to their countrymen. Those who had fallen in the first thrust were chopped into meat.

There would be no second charge.

Oct 21, 1450, Afternoon: The Forest Road

Pikemen must always stand together. To make the long spears work, a man must stand shoulder to shoulder with his rankmates, closer than brothers, closer than lovers, closer than the saints he prays to or the lice in his pants. If the whole company stands together, a single mass of bone and nerve and sinew edged with steel on every side, then not the bravest of knights - not even the craziest of knights - can force his horse to run itself onto the pike points. He can only halt, and jab weakly with extended lance at the front rank of the pikemen, or turn aside and circle the formation, looking for an opening.

So at least is the theory. As the men of the Free Company - and their opponents - found out that day, theory does not take account of panicking horses, bolting wildly down a narrow road with arrows coming from both sides, hemmed in by the forest and with nowhere to turn aside to. Some of the crazed chargers even tried to leap over the wall of pikes blocking their path. Others set their feet at the last only to trip or slide, and slam into the infantry with all the control of a rolling boulder.

Horses died, impaled on the pikes or breaking legs or necks in their falls. Pikes shattered, or were torn from their wielder's hands by the impact of hundredweights of horseflesh. Pikemen died, crushed, or kicked by flailing hooves, or struck down by desperate knights trapped in the middle of the mayhem and striking wildly at anything in range. The knights died too, thrown or rolled on by their own horses or struck down by halberds that outreached their swords, wielded by men with no interest in chivalry. Despite all Baer and Oskar could do to hold it together, the Free Company's carefully arrayed front line disintegrated in a chaos of overlapping melees.

It was the French that saved them. The road was not wide, it did not take many fallen horses to block it completely. The French coming from behind ran into a barrier of their comrades, spent their momentum on it, and went to build it higher. Some reined in savagely and tried to pick their way around or through the heaving mass, as the arrows continued to spit at them from the trees. Others, already unhorsed or desperate enough to abandon their mounts, tried to clamber over it, swords in hand, seeking a foe they could strike.

They did not find one. As soon as the initial pressure eased, Baer ordered the Company men to fall back half-a-dozen paces - suicide against an enemy who could press an advantage but good practice against a fixed one - and dress their lines. The scattered Frenchmen who made it through the tangle found themselves facing an unbroken line of pikes. Then the Free Company began to advance.

Halberds killed the thrashing horses and the knights still entangled with them. The ones who could stand found the pikes herding them back until the inevitable slip and fall, those few still mounted had their horses speared under them. Then the pig-choppers went to work again. Some Frenchmen saw death approaching and fled madly, hopelessly, into the woods on either side. Others made the ultimate sacrifice, threw down their swords and cried for quarter. Beyond the barrier of fallen chargers, their comrades were already falling back, arrows hissing after them. This had been a lesson they would not long forget.

Oct 21, 1450, Afternoon: The Forest Road


The French had crashed into the pike wall, and Olav knew that the infantry had just managed to stand their ground. It had been a very close run thing when the French knights had crashed into them, and as Olav got tossed backwards by a large French knight who had been tossed from his horse and then the momentum had sent him forward and now his body crashed into Olav sending both of them into the ground. Olav was grasping after air as the fall had knocked all air put of his lungs, and as the Frenchman was trying to stand up Olav was still on the ground. Just as he felt the air get back into his lounges, Olav could see the Frenchman was standing there with a small sword in his hand ready to strike. As Olav awaited the blow he could see that the Frenchman instead suddenly stopped moving and then he fell forward again. As the Frenchman hit the ground Olav could see Dietrich standing there with a bloody sword and a smile on his face.


“Come on, you can’t sit on the ground all day while we are fighting here...”


As Dietrich pulled Olav back up Olav could see that the battle was all but over. What the Free Company was doing now wasn’t a real battle it was slaughter. In front of the pike wall there were a large pile of horses, men and the ground was filled with blood. The French momentum that had almost broken through the pike wall had instead turned into a danger for the French. When the first knights and horses started to die on the pikes, their bodies had created a wall that the other French had crashed into. This had made men and horses fall forward or ground to a halt. Now the men of the Free Company had moved forward to this wall killing everything in their way. Olav, who had been on the ground trapped with the French knight for the first part of the battle, now quickly grabbed his sword and move forward to help his friends. The slaughter was soon finished, the few remaining French who hadn’t been killed by the pikes, the infantry’s swords and halberds or the arrows now retreated quickly. There were very few of them left and as Olav wiped the blood of a dead Frenchman away from his face and regained control over his body he knew they weren’t going to come back anytime soon.


To his left Olav could see Baer slit the throat of the last French knight, and then the sergeant stood up looking around for his men. The Free Company had lost several men, but the French losses were much larger. But that was now Baer’s concern at the moment. As his eyes found Oskar his mouth at once started to yell out orders.


“OSKAR... Take ten of the men and started picking up our dead and wounded and do it quickly...



FREE COMPANY. Form lines, prepare to march out!”


Olav had to smile as he stood next to Gaston in the line. The French had attacked them several times, but they had been lucky and they had won and now they were going to leave this place of death. As the men started to march Olav cast on last look on the battlefield and then he turned his face to look forward. The Free Company were going home.

Oct 21, 1450, Afternoon: The Forest Road

Gaston had been glad to be at the back. The melee had been brief but brutal - worse on the French side than on the Company's, but that still meant more gaps in the thinning ranks of the Company infantry. Some were faces Gaston was only just beginning to put names to, others were still strangers. He checked for the ones he did know - Gunter was solid as ever, and had even managed to keep his breastplate clean this time; Dietrich was strutting; Olav had been knocked down but was apparently all right. It could have been worse. I owe Oskar and the Bear an apology over those pig-choppers - in a fight like this, they work just fine.

There were no prisoners. It hadn't been that sort of fight, and the Company was in no condition to cart around uncooperative Frenchmen in addition to their other burdens. Gaston tried not to think of the ransoms they had missed if some of those dressed-up young knights had truly been as noble as they wanted to appear.

Ten men were detailed off to search the field and collect the wounded. Gaston was not one of them, despite his attempts to catch Oskar's eye. It wouldn't be a knight's ransom, but a bit of jewellry or fancy gilding from the fallen French would have eased the loss a bit.

Instead he found himself at the back of the column next to Olav. The Norwayman was smiling, which made sense to Gaston - they were alive, they were whole and they were heading towards payment and away from danger. With luck, the bodies of their companions would dissuade the French from following too closely - or at least from trying another attack.

It wasn't a quick march - especially when Oskar's group caught up and everyone had to take shifts with the makeshift litters. Despite this, they caught up with the wagons before they left the forest. There was a wider patch in the trail where it crossed a small stream. The wagons had stopped, the horses had been unhitched and were being rubbed down. It was clear they would be going no further that day. Captain did not look entirely happy with the development, and Antonio was busy explaining, gesturing around and at the sky - it was getting dark, the horses were spent, the wounded men had been jolted all day and half of them had started bleeding again.

Eventually Antonio won his point. The cavalry dismounted, the Rangers were sent back to watch the trail and the rest of the Company settled down to make what camp they could. At least there was plenty of deadwood for fires - the night promised to be chilly, and half the men had left their blankets behind in the retreat. Gaston found a spot under an oak tree that looked fairly rainproof. Few of the infantry had energy for much more than food and sleep - they might have been victorious in the second encounter, but they were still retreating from the first, and a retreat is ever the hardest march.

Someone who did still have energy to spare was the English lord, Neville. Gaston saw him joking with some of his archers (they'd been with Owyn's men in the fight, and by all accounts had done well). He saw the Free Company men watching him and actually smiled at them. Gaston smiled back by reflex, wondering if the man had simply needed a victory - even a trivial victory - to restore his spirits, or if there was something more to his change in moods. "What's up with him?"

Oct 22, 1450, Morning: The Forest Road

Gaston prided himself on his ability to sleep deeply and still wake up at first light, even after a hard fight and a harder march. He was also fairly good at rousing at unexpected noises, which allowed him to avoid most of the dipper of water Baer poured over him a half-hour before dawn.

"On your feet. Captain wants us moving as soon as it's light, so get your gear together and get in line with the others. Same order as yesterday, back of the column and stand ready to help with the wagons."

Gaston grabbed up his bil and blankets and staggered over to the slightly paler patch of dark that was the main clearing where the infantry were gathering. Olav and Dietrich were already there and Gunther joined them a few moments later. Gaston could only guess how they looked, but they didn't sound any happier than he did himself. No baking from Antonio today, not even hot broth, they chewed on salt beef and day-old bread while Baer did the rounds of the late sleepers with cold water and the occasional kick. One or two still didn't rouse and had to be carried over to the wagons - drink or sprung wounds, Gaston didn't know, but he hoped for their sake it was wounds.

No-one had news, but the fact that they weren't preparing for battle and hadn't been attacked in the night suggested that the French had backed off at least a little. The unanswered question was whether they would return with the daylight - or if they'd guessed the Company's destination and looped round the forest to get ahead of them.

The Company moved out at dawn. It wasn't a cheerful march - limbs had gone stiff, wounds had gone sore and it was cold - but with Baer and Captain's encouragement they made good time. It was only a little past noon when they emerged from the forest and saw the smoke of Camp-des-Reves.