B00B9BL6TI EBOK (20 page)

For a moment she couldn’t take it in. How …? But then the realisation flooded over her, and she heard the intake of breath from de Serland, which indicated that he too had understood. She worked her way through the implications, and breathed again. There was hope. For the first time in weeks, there was hope. Thank you Lord.

She turned to the man. ‘There is no time to waste – you must get back to the lord regent as soon as you can.’

He nodded wordlessly and dragged himself up and towards the door. As he was leaving she stopped him for a moment to speak again, reaching out her arm.

‘We are grateful to you, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It is just possible that you have saved all our lives.’

Again he said nothing, but his face held much emotion. He bowed his head briefly to her and left the room.

Edwin tried to marshal his thoughts as he was led towards the postern, but he couldn’t think straight. He had delivered his message, but what now? It would be of no use unless the regent was to hear of it, so he must concentrate on getting back. They couldn’t spare a man to go with him and besides, as the knight was saying, one man alone was less in danger of being seen than two. It sounded sensible as the words washed over him, but he didn’t quite grasp what this actually meant until the knight gripped his shoulder, wished him Godspeed and then pushed him outside the castle, alone.

He took a moment to orient himself, trying to identify the group of trees where the other men should hopefully be waiting with his horse. Horse. He winced at the thought of getting back on the animal yet again, but it wasn’t so terrifying: riding had become not an obstacle in itself, but merely a means to an end – he would be able to get back to the camp all the sooner. What on earth was he thinking about? Who cared about the horse? He had to get himself across all these fields first.

The moon was still bright, so he could make out the edge of the forest in the distance. How wide the open ground seemed! It was fields, or at least it had been – there wasn’t much growing there now. The French must have taken it all and cleared the ground so that they could see anyone who approached, giving themselves due warning. That wasn’t going to help him, of course, as he had to cross it now. He had no doubt that the man who had attacked him had been one of the enemy forces, rather than some common thief, for it was too much of a coincidence that he should be assailed so near the castle. Therefore he’d probably gone back to his friends to warn them that something was afoot, so others might be watching from the city walls. He had no choice, though – he would have to risk it. He waited a few moments more until a cloud moved and partially obscured the moon, and then he set out.

It was slow going, as he thought he would be better off crawling along the ground in order to minimise his chances of being seen. He made his way through the scrubby, stubbly ground, scraping his hands and knees, and pausing in any dip or behind any small patch of undergrowth. This was going to take ages, and he wasn’t even sure that he was still heading in the right direction. He would have to stand up and look. Shoulders twitching, as though he could already feel an arrow fizzing towards him, he stood and peered into the darkness.

It was at that moment that the moon burst forth from behind the cloud, illuminating the whole plain, and the first shouts came from behind him.

He began to run.

Sir Reginald had been sitting on his horse and scanning the open ground. He’d barely dismounted since John Marshal had returned two nights ago, although the others did so. They were lounging around in the cover of the trees, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop watching. He wasn’t very good at waiting. He was worried about his young companion, following Edwin’s admission that he didn’t know how to fight. What would he do if he was attacked? He needed someone to look out for him.

As he heard distant shouts issuing from the direction of the city he urged his horse forward out of the cover of the trees so that he could see more clearly. The moon was bright, flooding the plain, and his eye caught the movement in the middle of the open ground. Edwin. He was running. Sir Reginald looked behind the hurrying figure to see a number of men on horseback moving swiftly towards him. His heart leapt. There was no time to waste. Roaring to his companions to catch up, he shoved on his helmet, spurred his horse forward and galloped out on to the plain.

The tactics came to him without thought as he rode. If he were to stop and try to pick Edwin up, the attackers would be upon them before they could return to the woods, and it would be difficult to defend against them while there were two of them on the horse – no, better to try and delay the attackers while his companions caught up and rescued Edwin. All this went through his mind in less than a moment as he couched his lance, bracing it under his arm so that he would have the full weight of the horse to add to his own as he crashed into the enemy. There were a dozen of them, and he would have to take out as many as possible to stop them reaching Edwin. This was what life was all about! He barely gave Edwin a glance as he swept past, intent on his enemy, a wild exhilaration building within him.

If Edwin had thought about it, he would probably have said that his greatest fear was archers aiming at him. But the sound of hoofbeats drumming behind him as he raced across the open ground instilled a terror so profound that he could hardly force his legs to keep moving. He was tiring, slowing down as they approached him. He would have no chance of reaching the woods before they caught him. He was going to die. Sharp steel would thrust into his body … and then, dear Lord, the sound of a cry from the tree line. They were still there. They were waiting for him. There was hope.

The darkness of the woods erupted as a figure burst forth, and Edwin gaped as the awe-inspiring figure of a fully armoured mounted knight thundered past him, lance lowered. He was so close that he was splattered by earth thrown up by the galloping hooves. He tried to keep running, breath labouring, but the combination of fear, hope and exhaustion united to prevent him. His legs gave way and he fell to his hands and knees. He was drawn to look behind him.

The lone man continued his charge, and Edwin watched in a kind of fascination as he smashed into the party of pursuers. They were lightly armed, dressed for speed, and individually they were no match for the knight. The lead man, at whom the lance was aimed, stood no chance, and the sharpened steel head plunged straight through his body. The knight made no attempt to retrieve it but instead drew his sword and lashed about him, killing and maiming his opponents. Edwin had never seen a knight in real action before, and the sight was awesome, the violence sickening. Men scattered before his blade as he wreaked havoc.

But there were too many of them, even Edwin could see that. Gradually the knight’s momentum slowed, he became mired in the encounter, and four of the men left their companions to deal with him while they spurred past in search of their original target. Him. Edwin tried to scramble to his feet, running before he was standing, slipping in his haste as he tried to flee. The sound of hoofbeats seemed to be coming from everywhere.

As he regained his balance and forced his screaming limbs to move, he became aware that the sound really was coming from all around him. A further party of knights was issuing from the woods. He crouched and covered his head as they thundered past barely an arm’s length from him, turning to watch as some hurtled into the unfortunate pursuers and others surged forward to aid the lone knight who was still frenziedly fighting off his opponents. One horse pulled up next to him and Edwin looked up. The rider’s voice was muffled and dull inside the helmet, and Edwin couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he didn’t care. The knight reached his arm down and hauled him up behind him onto the horse before wheeling and making for the safety of the trees.

Once they were there, Sir Gilbert – for it was he – removed his helmet and turned his horse so they could see the progress of the rest of the party. He looked anxiously towards the furthermost encounter, where it seemed that the knight, with the help of his friends, had succeeded in fighting off his opponents. Bodies lay sprawled on the ground around them, as they did at the site of the second encounter. From what Edwin could see, his companions had killed all the attackers without losing a man of their own.

Sir Gilbert seemed to read his mind. ‘We had surprise on our side, and they were but lightly armed. Still, it was damned foolish of Reginald to set off on his own like that. He could have got himself killed.’

Edwin’s eyes opened wide as he realised who the lone knight was. ‘You mean … Sir Reginald attacked all those men, on his own, in order to save me?’

The knight snorted. ‘Reginald would attack a party of French for far less reason than that, I can tell you.’ He softened slightly. ‘But yes, he did, and we are glad to see you safe. Do you have news?’ Edwin nodded. ‘Good. The others can catch us up on the way, but we must get you back to the lord regent.’ He pulled the reins around and set his heels to the horse’s flank. ‘Hold on.’

John Marshal stabbed his finger at the plan of the city which was laid out on the table. The smoking torches didn’t make reading easy, but the thick black lines which represented the castle and the city walls and gates could still be seen in the uneven light. ‘The French have their main concentration of forces
here
. Their siege machinery is
here
, to the south side of the castle, and they also have troops in the north-eastern corner of the city, north of the cathedral. This area
here
to the east of the castle has been razed, so there is some open ground, as there is in the minster yard. But the rest of the city, southwards towards the river, is still standing and is inhabited, so we will have to prepare ourselves to fight in narrow streets.’

He turned to the nobles around him, amazed that they had managed to stop arguing long enough to listen to him.

His uncle nodded. ‘This is perhaps not the way we would have chosen to fight, but there is no choice.’ Briskly he turned to the other nobles surrounding him. ‘We will deploy in four battalions. I will lead one – ’

He was interrupted by the Earl of Derby. ‘But my lord – surely you don’t intend to ride into battle yourself? I mean, at your age … oh.’ He tailed off into silence, realising his mistake. The other nobles watched like crows circling over carrion as the regent pivoted to face him, enunciating his words very slowly.

‘Old I may be. But even if I were over eighty I should still be leading my men into battle. I am the leader of this force, William, and you would do well to remember it.’

Derby stepped back in silence, cowed, glaring at those who were casting him gloating looks. The group looked more fractured than ever. The regent made as if to continue, but the Earl of Chester forestalled him.

‘You are the leader, my lord, and none of us doubt it. But your men are not the greatest in number – mine are. So the honour of leading the first battalion should fall to me. It is my right, and I demand it.’