Read Chapter 27: What Free Means

Peace did come.

Not all at once, and not everywhere.

Treaties were signed by men far from the muddy roads where Martin had spent most of his life. Ransoms changed hands. Castles changed owners. Soldiers were dismissed.

Then the free companies multiplied.

Thousands of armed men suddenly lacked contracts.

Some went home.

Many had no home left.

Bands began roaming the countryside, exactly as Rochefort had predicted.

Towns that had praised the end of war now barred gates against unemployed soldiers.

The Free Hounds faced a choice.

They could take rich contracts suppressing other mercenaries.

They could enter permanent royal service.

They could become what they had once feared: an armed power living from the land.

Martin called a full assembly at Chainbreak.

Two hundred and nine fighters remained.

He stood beneath the broken-chain banner.

“Our purpose was never to become a lordship,” he said.

Someone shouted, “You would make a terrible lord!”

“Thank you, Will.”

Laughter eased the room.

Martin continued. “Any man who wants royal service may leave with recommendation and full share. Any man who wants land, we will ask our allied towns and estates for settlement. Those who remain will serve only fixed contracts under the rules.”

“What contracts?” someone asked.

“Road protection. Convoy escort. Defence against brigands. No private tax collection. No harvest seizure.”

“Less money,” another said.

“Yes.”

Silence.

Martin did not decorate the truth.

By winter, almost half the company had left.

Some entered French garrisons. Greybourne recruited three English archers back into his service. Several married local women and settled near mills they had once guarded.

The Free Hounds shrank to one hundred and seventeen.

Martin felt relief.

A smaller army could remain a company.

Chainbreak itself changed. The market grew. A permanent council of nearby villages, guild representatives, and clergy began handling disputes Martin had once judged personally.

Ysabeau became keeper of the market accounts and refused all suggestions that this made her respectable.

Brother Matthieu returned formally to monastic life but spent more time at Chainbreak than at his abbey.

Agnès Courtois was elected head of the Millers' League and terrified officials across Picardy.

Sir Thomas Greybourne returned to England for six months, then appeared again claiming France had better wine and worse conversation.

Captain Arnaud gained a royal post connected to military supply reform.

“Did we make him honest?” Will asked.

“No,” Martin said. “We made dishonesty more complicated.”

It was enough for a beginning.

One spring morning, Martin rode past the apple tree where Hugues lay buried.

The grave marker had weathered grey.

Someone had carved the three rules beneath his name.

Pay men when promised.

Do not burn what you may need to eat.

Know who profits when everyone else loses.

Below them, another hand had added:

And keep the cook honest.

Martin laughed.

He did not remove it.

Demobilisation proved harder than recruitment. A soldier who joined the Free Hounds knew what he was leaving: hunger, a failed lord, a broken company, a village with no work. A soldier departing after years under the broken chain had to imagine a future that did not involve marching with armed companions.

Martin asked allied towns to reserve small numbers of guard posts for veterans. Millers took men who could repair gear and manage horses. Abbey estates offered tenancy on abandoned farms to families willing to restore them. Not everyone adapted.

Some former Hounds returned to robbery within months.

One band attacked a merchant road Martin's remaining company was hired to protect. Their leader had once eaten beside him at Chainbreak.

When Martin confronted them, the man shouted, “You taught us no lord owns us.”

“I taught you a contract does not own you.”

“What difference?”

“The difference between freedom and taking whatever you can.”

The ensuing fight was brief and ugly. Two former Hounds died. The rest surrendered.

Martin spent that night wondering whether the company had ever truly changed men or merely given disciplined shape to violence already inside them.

Matthieu offered no comfort.

“Institutions do not create saints,” he said. “They make ordinary behaviour easier to predict.”

“That is bleak.”

“It is useful.”

Chainbreak's council later created a fund for discharged soldiers, financed partly by road tolls and merchant contributions. It was small. It prevented some men from choosing robbery during the first hungry weeks after service.

Martin considered that more valuable than another victory song.

Freedom, he learned, required exits. Otherwise a free company was only another lordship with different words.