Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,170
he buckled his swordbelt, he ordered the youth to harness up the baggage ponies and pack the valuables, just in case.
Outside, Adelard had assembled the Albini troop into tight formation. The sounds of battle had escalated and as Will was remounting Forcilez, the smell of smoke began to waft on the evening wind from the direction of the abbey. He leaned down to take his shield and spear from the squire.
“There is only Robert of Gloucester in the vicinity,” Adelard said grimly.
420
LadyofEnglish.indd 420
6/9/11 5:35 PM
Lady of the English
“You think he is preempting the king’s strike at Wareham?”
“Could be, sire.”
Will nodded. “It is what I would do, and Gloucester is always ready to seize an opportunity.”
“But what about the king?”
Will compressed his lips and urged Forcilez out of the leper-house gates on to the road that led one way to Wilton and the other to Salisbury. Dusk was closing in, the sun sinking in a yellow pool, smudged by long streamers of charcoal cloud. The smell of smoke was thicker now and Will could hear the crackle of flames. As he picked up the pace, Martin came galloping back towards him and drew rein in a swirl of dust.
“It’s the Earl of Gloucester, sire,” he panted. “And Miles FitzWalter and William of Salisbury. They’ve fired the village and the abbey!”
“The king, did you see the king?”
“No, sire, but one of William D’Ypres’s Flemings said that he and the bishop of Winchester have fled under hard pursuit to the legate’s castle at Downton, and everyone should scatter as best they may!”
Several fleeing horsemen burst out of the dusk at full gallop.
“Go!” one of them bellowed at Will. “Gloucester has overrun the abbey—flee for your lives! The roads south and north are cut off!” He reined his horse around Forcilez and spurred away.
Before Will could turn to give orders, more soldiers arrived at a hard gallop in pursuit of those who had just raced through.
He barely raised his shield in time to ward off a vicious blow from the mallet wielded by a knight on a roan stallion. He groped for his sword, drew it, and twitched the reins. Forcilez half reared and struck out at his opponent’s horse with pawing forehooves. The other stallion shied, and Will was able to land a blow on his adversary’s unguarded leg. Blood spattered and the man screamed and reined away. Will pivoted Forcilez to 421
LadyofEnglish.indd 421
6/9/11 5:35 PM
Elizabeth Chadwick
take on another opponent, this time slashing through the reins and clipping the destrier on its neck. The knight retaliated, his blade nicking Will’s cheek.
“Sound the retreat!” Will bellowed to Adelard, aware that reinforcements could arrive from Wilton at any moment. A flail connected with his ribs and the blow shot the air out of his lungs. Forcilez turned and lashed out and turned again, and he praised God for the stallion’s courage, training, and implacable nature. He rallied enough to strike again and heard the blare of the horn. Once, twice. His knight Milo Bassett came to his aid and they hacked themselves free and clapped spurs to their destriers’ flanks. The Angevin knights hurtled in pursuit, eager to capture an earl. Forcilez lacked speed but was sure-footed and strong, and this paid off as one of the chasing men drew level. As he reached to seize hold of Will, his horse stumbled. There was a sickening crack as the destrier’s foreleg snapped, and the man was thrown and hit the ground hard.
Two other pursuing knights were too close to swerve and were brought down, and the others, now lacking superior numbers, drew back.
Will and his men rode on hard, using the last of the light to put more distance between them and their enemy. Looking over his shoulder Will could see the glow of fire from the direction of Wilton. The village and abbey were well and truly alight, and it was obvious that the Angevins had carried all before them. He put his hand up to his face and brought it away red-fingered. Most of his men bore superficial wounds. A couple had deeper cuts that needed binding and stitching, and there was one empty saddle where one of his serjeants had died in the skirmish. They had some of their baggage, but all the tents and food supplies were lost.
He turned swiftly at the sound of hooves on the track to his left and, with pounding heart, drew his sword. Moments later, 422