‘Desire for victory is no bad thing,’ said Killbere. ‘Once he hears the trumpets and drums, he’ll fight like the devil. He needs to earn the right to rule.’

Blackstone raised his eyes from the map; he was familiar with the landscape from when he had fought and raided through the territory. ‘The Prince said you were to advise de Montfort. He wouldn’t defy you or the Prince. If it were not for Edward’s blessing Charles of Blois would have claimed Brittany years ago.’

‘And now those years come to a head. De Montfort has the right to make his own decisions, Thomas. I can only intervene if he makes a decision that will cost him, and our King, the duchy. We need the succession to go his way. We both need to convince him that riding across Brittany in search of a battle serves no purpose other than to risk defeat.’

Blackstone turned back to the map. ‘We must choose the place to fight; so what would bring Charles of Blois to us? To a place of our choosing? Auray is held by his ally. It’s a strategic town sitting at the mouth of the river.’ Blackstone traced his finger down to the sea. ‘How far to the coast? Ten miles? To seize the town would inflict a wound in Blois’s flank. He needs to bring in supplies. Auray lets him bypass the ports in Aquitaine.’ Blackstone looked at the two men.

‘Then we let de Montfort lay siege to Auray,’ said Chandos. ‘Yes. A good plan, Thomas. He has ships down the coast at Le Croisic that can soon blockade the river mouth.’

‘A siege will draw in the French and Bretons. Norman troops are already moving towards us,’ said Killbere.

‘And those who defeated de Grailly at Cocherel, from the east,’ said Blackstone. He dragged his finger across the map. ‘All those men mean Blois has four thousand men, perhaps more by now. He’ll make slow progress. His supply line must keep up with him. Bertrand du Guesclin commands the French vanguard. He’s the best leader the French have had in years.’ Blackstone studied the land mass on the map and stabbed his finger. ‘Their two armies will converge here at Brandivy.’

Chandos scratched his beard. The Breton coast was no place to make a stand. ‘We would be trapped with our backs to the sea.’

‘That’s what they expect, Sir John, but we won’t be there. We’ll be... here,’ he said and touched the area north of the town. ‘If they step into our trap then we will win the day.’

Killbere swished the wine around his mouth and swallowed. ‘And if they don’t, we’ll be neck deep in marshland mud and lose.’

CHAPTER FOURTEEN