lifted her head. Distantly she could indeed smell smoke on the wind.
The scout patted his trembling horse. “The Count of Anjou has turned to Le Sap instead.”
Matilda’s eyes darkened. “What?”
De Bohun said, “Neither side will risk a pitched battle, domina. If de Meulan has fired Lisieux, either it is to destroy the means by which our army can supply itself, or because he cannot control his men. We do not have enough soldiers to ride into Lisieux ourselves and face de Meulan.”
“Le Sap. How far is that?”
“About nineteen miles to the south,” said de Bohun. “If we push the horses harder, we can be there in a little over two hours.”
“Then push them,” she said grimly. If they could take Le Sap, then at least it would be a base from which to renew assault on Lisieux once Geoffrey’s troops were bolstered by her reinforcements.
De Bohun gave the order and Matilda had her remount brought up: the strong white gelding she had ridden on the day she fled her marriage from Geoffrey. That smooth pace and stamina would stand her in good stead now. Around her 201
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the soldiers who had spare horses took the opportunity to change them and those who did not retired to the back of the column. De Redvers bowed as he handed her a costrel of wine and a drinking horn inlaid with silver. “To your health, domina,” he said.
She took a few fortifying swallows. “If we had arrived half a day earlier, we could have made a difference,” she said in frustration as she returned the horn.
“Perhaps,” de Redvers said with a shrug, “but you cannot look back. With good fortune, the Count of Anjou will have succeeded at Le Sap, and if Meulan has burned Lisieux, it benefits us, because it will not endear him to the people.” By the time they arrived at Le Sap, the sun was westering at their backs, and once again there was smoke in the air, powerful and pungent. Bodies of men and animals littered the road.
Many houses in the small town were ablaze and the church was writhing in flames while the priest stood outside with his deacons, wringing his hands and weeping to God. On the castle walls, Geoffrey’s lioncel banner flew with those of his allies: Talvas, Aquitaine, Vendôme, and Nevers. Knights and serjeants were busy making billets. A miserable crowd of prisoners huddled against the castle walls, their wrists and ankles clamped by fetters.
A makeshift gallows had been erected and several corpses dangled from it, their necks tilting to touch their shoulders.
One man had been mutilated too, his entrails hanging out in slick bluish ropes. The smell of the butcher’s shambles, bloody and rich, joined the raw stink of smoke and Matilda covered her face with her wimple and gagged.
“Domina, thank Christ you are here.” She turned at the touch on her arm and faced Geoffrey’s close friend and ally, William Talvas. His face was smirched with grease from his hauberk and there was a superficial nick under one cheekbone that had dried in a beaded black line.
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She eyed him askance. “It seems I did not arrive in time for Lisieux, but you appear to have taken Le Sap—if rather messily,” she added with a pointed glance over her shoulder at the burning church.
“We sent for aid because there is sickness in the camp.
Many of the soldiers have the bloody flux and cannot fight and there are wounded from our other battles. We badly need the replacements.”
“Where is the Count of Anjou?” She had expected to see Geoffrey before now, striding about, directing operations in his usual high-handed manner.
Talvas rubbed the back of his neck. “That is another reason I am glad you are here. He has been wounded. That man we hanged—he hurled a javelin from a whip sling and it struck Geoffrey in the foot. He’s in the solar chamber having the injury seen to by a chirurgeon.”
Matilda fought down panic. She could not afford to lose Geoffrey now with so much at stake and their sons so small.
“How bad?”
Talvas shrugged. “He’ll only be wearing one boot for a while.” Matilda hurried off in search of her husband and found him lying in the solar as Talvas had said. He had drunk the best part of a flagon of wine and was still drinking. Red stars flushed his cheekbones and his eyes were opaque with pain. His hair was plastered to his