to pay court to the abbot for a spell. Truth be told, he did not care much for Abbot Hugo—Guy respected him, and obeyed him, and had vowed to serve him to the best of his ability . . . but he did not like the arrogance, vanity, and ever-more-insistent demands that were becoming a burden.
He owed Hugo a great deal for taking his part and saving him following that first disastrous encounter with King Raven—as the abbot was ever swift to point out. The baron would have had the young marshal horsewhipped and driven from his ranks if not for Hugo’s intervention. Guy knew it was not out of sympathy or compassion for himself that the power-grasping cleric had acted but, as with the newly acquired soldiers, it was all part of a carefully devised scheme to gain a force of men who answered to no one but Abbot Hugo alone.
Guy, the abbot’s commander, was liking the circumstances of his service less and less. In fact, the reason for braving the cold journey to the North Riding was to see if there might be some place for him in his father’s retinue. Sadly, the state of affairs that had sent him south and forced him to link his fortunes with Baron de Braose remained unaltered. There was no living to be had in the north and, as he had long ago discovered, it was too far away from the dance of power and influence attending the king and his court—which was the only hope of the landless lord for advancement, or even a living.
Marshal Guy de Gysburne still needed the abbot because he still needed the baron and ultimately the king. But he was determined that when a better situation presented itself, he would not hesitate to seize it. For now, however, the prospect of commanding a new company of men was an agreeable development and one he determined to bend to his own advantage.
After taking a few mouthfuls of wine and some bread, the knights mounted their horses and rode out, striking north from the town towards the shaggy hills and great encircling arms of the forest. The day was brisk and the sky speckled with grey-edged clouds which passed as shadows over the smooth green snow-spattered hillsides before them. The soldiers, glad for a chance to explore the unfamiliar territory of their new home, galloped through the long grass, exulting in the strength of the horses beneath them.
They reached the edge of the forest, found the entrance to a game run, and entered the long, dim, tree-lined tunnel. The path was wide and they rode easily along, each with a spear ready in case they caught a glimpse of a stag or doe, or some other creature to give them a good chase. But, though they followed the trail as it coursed deeper into the heart of the greenwood, the would-be hunters found nothing worthy of their sport, and as the day began to wane, Guy signalled to Jocelin, riding ahead, that it was time to turn toward home.
Loath to come away without bloodying his spear, Jocelin suggested, “My lord, let us ride on to the top of the ridge just there. If we haven’t found any fresh tracks by then, we will turn back.”
“The trail is cold today,” Guy replied, “and I am getting hungry. Leave it,” he said, turning his mount to begin the ride back, “and save a stag or two for another day.”
The soldiers followed reluctantly, and as soon as they had quit the forest once more, the ride became a race. Letting their horses have their heads, they flew over the low hills towards the low-sinking sun. Guy, unwilling to restrain their high spirits any longer, let them go.
“Shall I call them back?” asked Jeremias, reining in beside the marshal as the last of the soldiers disappeared over the crest of the hill.
“No, Sergeant, it would serve no purpose,” Guy answered. “They will have their ride and feel better for it.”
The two proceeded at an easy trot until, reaching the place where they had seen the last rider, they heard shouts and cries echoing up from the valley below. Little more than a crease between two slopes, the valley angled away towards the south and east, broadening slightly before ending in a rocky outcrop. There, in the centre of this close-set defile, was a Welsh herdsman with his cattle.
The soldiers had the man and his few forlorn beasts surrounded and were attempting