Belaset's Daughter - By Feona J Hamilton Page 0,120

the shoulder.

"Tell their leaders that they are personally responsible. Let that unctuous fool fitzThomas know, in particular. The Folkmoot will pay for the misdemeanours of any of their men and pay in cash or goods, which will hurt them more than any flogging!"

Monchesny grinned and Hugh, who had listened to the exchange, laughed out loud.

"A clever ruse, Simon!" he said, still chuckling as he spoke.

Monchesny turned his horse and rode back to the King s Field, where he summoned the three leaders to him and explained the rules under which the march would be made.

Bukerel and Puleston glared angrily at Monchesny, and fitzThomas looked crestfallen, but none dared object. Satisfied that the crowd of Londoners would now be properly controlled, rather than a rabble antagonising everyone on their route, Monchesny returned to the Tower and gave the order for everyone to move out.

The gates were flung open, and the de Montfort s army streamed out, followed by the rest of his household and hangers-on, who went wherever Simon de Montfort went. As the last stragglers left, the Londoners were led off the King s Green and joined the throng making its way through the narrow streets. Women and the infirm, along with little children, stood and watched as the procession wound its way along, towards the bridge.

The head was squeezing its way across the bridge as the tail was just leaving the shadow BOSON BOOKS

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Belaset’s Daughter

of the Tower, and it was a long time before the last group of all was on the other side of the Thames and making its way south at a steady pace.

Now that the great adventure was under way, men walked with their heads up and a look of anticipation on their faces. This was more like it! they told each other. This was better than another long day breaking your back over your work, with nothing to look forward to but more of the same the next day.

The sun shone on them and felt pleasantly warm. It was May 6th.

* * *

When they arrived at de Montfort s manor of Fletching, it was a more disciplined crowd that set up camp and settled in. Every day they had been given marching orders; every day the soldiers among them had ensured that those orders were kept. They were footsore and weary, silent with fatigue, but there were few grumblers.

The Londoners were smaller in number than the mob which had set out four days ago.

Many had dropped out and gone back home, when they realised what hard work marching all day could be. More had lost their nerve, as it dawned on them that they were marching into real danger, that they were likely to be hurt and, perhaps, killed. Each time they stopped for the night, more and more of the names called over by their leaders would be greeted by silence. Each morning, there would be more gaps. By now, Monchesny had already told de Montfort, they had lost perhaps half of the original number. Nevertheless, Simon was satisfied that he still had a good sized army, and that they could win any battle against Henry and his side.

Now Monchesny, Gilbert de Clare, and the other leaders, gathered in de Montfort s tent for their nightly discussion. Candles lit the interior of the huge tent, and showed the men sitting at table, enjoying capons and suckling pigs plundered from the farms they had walked through during the course of the day. The food had been cooked by de Montfort s own kitchen staff tonight, and it was delicious. The men ate greedily, and the grease ran down their chins. Goblets of wine were emptied in a few gulps, and handed over to a servant for refilling. It all tasted so good after the long march in the heat of a spring day.

Finally, when most people had eaten their fill, but before they became too drunk to talk sensibly, de Montfort thumped his fist on the table for silence. He waited until he had everyone s attention, before speaking.

"We have reached a place where we can regain our strength an plan what to do next," he said. "You all know that we are among my own people here in Fletching, and no-one here would dare do other than support me. We know that the King is aware that we have left London. He has marched his own army to Lewes, and has encamped there. He will be trying to find out exactly where we are.