Chapter 3: On the Brink of Explosion
“Damn it, the French commander actually rejected the proposal and insisted that the fleet remain docked!” Resalrit shouted furiously.
Carlo was silent, too afraid to speak.
Barbanera found the cramped anchorage of the allied fleet unsettling.
Resolutely, he proposed to the leading naval commanders, Hugh and Nicholas, that the fleet should immediately set sail to the open sea and patiently await the right moment there.
If the English fleet dared to disembark personnel, they could take advantage of their superior position to launch an attack and seize the upper hand.
However, Hugh and Nicholas ignored the advice of the seasoned pirate Barbanera.
Neither commander expected the English navy to appear, especially since rumors suggested there was considerable opposition within England to King Edward’s campaign.
Seeing that the English fleet was much smaller than the allied fleet, they worried that if they left their current position for the open sea, the English might be frightened off by the overwhelming presence of the allied fleet, like a cat with its tail stepped on.
This dispute within the command went unnoticed by most.
Soon after, the French naval commanders issued explicit orders.
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French Command Headquarters at the Port of Sluys:
The fleet is divided into three squadrons, lined up from the river mouth to the open sea, chained together with boards and small stone-laden boats set as barriers.
Each ship in the first squadron is armed with four cannons, protected by Genoese crossbowmen and Castilians, with crews composed of Flemish and Picards.
The second squadron consists of men from Boulogne and Dieppe, while the third is formed by the remaining Normans.
All knights shall assemble at the port, don their armor, mount their warhorses, and ready their weapons and attendants to support at a moment’s notice.
Prepare to fight the English on land! France will triumph!
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Resalrit was furious but powerless to defy orders from command. He prepared to disembark and accept his assignment.
“Sir Resalrit, let me and my cousin Roberto come with you immediately!” Carlo, though uncertain of the war’s outcome, sensed an indescribable strangeness in the naval commanders’ arrangements.
Besides, on the Lighthouse Guardian, he was, at best, a soldier, at worst a slave soldier, always at risk of becoming a casualty.
Resalrit was a knight, the lowest rank among nobles, but serving as his attendant on land was surely better than facing the ocean’s fury.
Resalrit’s gaze swept the crowd and immediately recognized the youth.
The boy appeared barely in his teens, lively-eyed, speaking clearly and politely, radiating youthful vigor.
He reminded Resalrit deeply of his own son Raphael, stirring a rare warmth in his heart.
The battlefield was swift and unpredictable. Just now, due to the naval commanders’ unquestionable, hurried, and foolish orders, Resalrit’s anger flared.
He nearly forgot—he had promised to take this boy as his attendant.
He glanced at the honest-looking Roberto beside Carlo.
He sighed inwardly; it was far too dangerous for these young men to be in the first squadron.
“Very well, lads, you and your cousin shall follow me.”
Though these two lads were mercenaries’ pawns, even private property, when the knight gave the word, none dared to oppose—it was only two boys after all.
They shrugged and hurried to obey.
Carlo and Roberto quickly followed Resalrit. Roberto beamed:
“Carlo, you really did well this time. We finally got rid of those mercenaries.”
Carlo nodded slightly and stepped onto solid ground, a profound sense of relief washing over him.
They trailed closely behind Resalrit.
In the French port camp, Resalrit’s attendant, Louvain, was helping the knight don armor and instructing Carlo and Roberto on how to assist on the battlefield.
“Listen carefully. On the battlefield, you must remain vigilant at all times.
When the knight charges, stay close behind, ready to pass weapons at a moment’s notice.
If enemies approach, use your shields to defend the knight without hesitation.
In dangerous situations, quickly assess and alert the knight.
Remember, your duty is to ensure the knight’s safety and contribute to France’s glory.”
Carlo and Roberto listened attentively, nodding earnestly.
Louvain nodded slightly and continued adjusting Resalrit’s armor and weapons.
Calm now, Carlo resumed reflecting on the Hundred Years’ War between England and France.
Well, official history was unclear to him, but he knew plenty of unofficial tales.
Interesting—he recalled the American TV series “Knightfall.”
The Grand Master of the Templars had an affair with Queen Joan, wife of Philip IV, and even bore a child.
Could it be true? It had even been made into a series.
Wait—the child was supposedly Isabella.
Maybe there was some truth to it.
During the 1325 War of Saint-Sardos, King Charles IV drunkenly confided this to his ministers and nicknamed Isabella the “She-Wolf.”
Edward II felt utterly humiliated, refused to pay homage to the French king, sparking the war.
If that’s true, why would Edward III claim the French throne?
The scene shifts to the English flagship Thomas, where King Edward III observed the French fleet’s deployment with a smile.
Edward III was one of England’s most formidable kings—arrogant yet possessed of relentless, demonic energy.
He was determined to be a heroic king.
At the same time, he was a realist whose motto was “Things as they are.”
Now 28, he had established absolute authority among the nobility.
Tall and strikingly handsome, with a pointed blond beard that hung long, his face was said to be “like the face of God.”
Noble, dignified, charismatic, fluent in both English and French, with a gentle voice.
This time, Edward III was risking everything.
France was far more powerful than England.
France’s population was 21 million; England barely a fifth of that.
Economically, militarily, and through allies, France overwhelmingly outmatched England.
The number of English heavy cavalry was less than one-tenth of France’s.
His ministers almost unanimously opposed this campaign.
“But I will sail anyway. Those who fear can stay home.”
Finally, Edward III set sail from Orwell Harbor in Suffolk aboard the Thomas.
During the voyage, his favored Baron Moray joined with 50 warships, giving Edward a fleet with sufficient combat power.
“The French want to fight me on land? Ha! That suits me perfectly.
Earl of Huntington, I order you to organize the fleet into three squadrons, groups of three ships each—two wings with two ships full of longbowmen, the center with one ship full of heavy cavalry.
Baron Moray, you are to organize the Welsh as a fourth squadron, the fleet’s reserve, all crews longbowmen.”
After Edward’s orders, the English fleet carried them out with remarkable efficiency.
Yet he did not attack immediately, choosing to rest the fleet overnight.
At five in the morning, he ordered anchor weighed and sails raised, waiting for the tide.
As his fleet turned toward Sluys, the English had the wind and tide in their favor and faced away from the sun.
“Relay my royal command to every warrior involved: I will fight alongside you.
These French do not know how to wage war; England will claim victory once again.”
Suddenly, the English fleet set sail.
This was a blow to the allied fleet at Sluys, who had prepared to engage the English yesterday.
Yet all day, the English did not come!
All night, the allied fleet was on edge, but the English did not appear!
By midnight, many could no longer bear it.
Some carefree souls shed their armor, tossing it aside to sleep.
“Hahaha, the English are cowards. The great allied fleet has scared the courage out of them. Let’s sleep easy.”
Even the cautious warriors could not endure such long vigil and mostly fell asleep leaning on weapons and shields.
At dawn, the English fleet arrived!
Genoese General Barbanera was no amateur in naval warfare.
His sentries immediately alerted him.
Sensing danger, Barbanera hurried to find Biyu.
“General! The English king’s fleet is approaching. Order the fleet to sail out at once!
If you remain behind this embankment, the English will trap you here, aided by the wind, tide, and sun.”
Still drowsy, Biyu waved him off nonchalantly:
“Do not worry, General. Everything is under my and Guilleres’ control.
Just wait and see how we annihilate the English.”
Barbanera swallowed his words, forcing them back:
“Yes, Commander, I will return immediately to organize the fleet and comply with your orders.”
Panicked, Barbanera quickly gathered his trusted men, abandoning his flagship.
He hastily boarded a nearby Genoese warship at the fleet’s edge, raised anchor, and escaped impending doom.
On this ship’s hull was boldly painted the name: Lighthouse Guardian.