Belaset's Daughter - By Feona J Hamilton Page 0,133

into the river were just as likely to meet their death through drowning.

The shouts and cries acted like a signal to do battle for the rest gathered into those two divisions, and it was pointless to hold back any longer. Giving the signal, de Montfort watched as all three divisions began moving down the slope towards the King s army.

The eerie silence which had hung over the assembled divisions was broken now, as men urged each other forward, horses neighed, and feet and hooves marched and stumbled down the grassy slopes. The sight triggered a similar reaction from the other side, and the three divisions of the King s army began moving up the hill towards their opposing cohorts.

The shouts of encouragement turned to cries of pain as the two sides met and fought each other. The arrows which came flying up and down the hill met easy targets, while the men marched so tightly packed. In some cases, arrows meant for the other side fell short of their targets, and killed those who fought on the same side. In the whirling maelstrom of hand to hand combat, the potent combination of anger, fear and bloodlust led to a sort of maddened blindness. Sword in hand, men struck out in front of them and BOSON BOOKS

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to the side, aiming, as they thought, at their foes. Sometimes, in the heat of battle, a familiar face would appear. Whoever hesitated lost his life, or was severely wounded.

Many of those fighting for the King found, to their horror, that they had struck down brother, cousin, or even father, as they loomed suddenly in front of them, wearing the white cross of the enemy.

In a very short time, the ground was littered with bodies, and men and horses alike began to stumble and slither in the blood that flowed like a second river over the ground.

Jervis, fighting on foot by now, and trying with all his might simply to stay near to de Warenne, had been drawn along through a thick knot of men, until he came out on the other side. Pausing for a breath, and a quick glance round, he saw a horrible re-enactment of de Tourney s murder, as an arrow struck a man in the very act of running towards him, dagger upraised, ready to strike. The man stopped in his tracks as the arrow struck him, looked completely amazed, opened his mouth to cry out, but fell back, blood gushing from his wound, before he could utter a sound. Jervis, sickened, stood frozen with shock, until a hand grasped him by the shoulder and dragged him backwards. He looked up and saw de Warenne, gesturing to him to get behind him on his horse, and he obeyed, leaping up in a bound, despite the uncontrollable trembling of his legs.

De Warenne turned the horse about, despite the press of men, and forced his way through to the relative calm at the back of the throng.

"Forget it, Jervis!" came his muffled voice through the helmet.

Jervis swallowed his nausea and took a deep breath.

"It is forgotten, my lord," he said, bravely.

He could see de Warenne s eyes staring at him through the slits in his helmet. They narrowed slightly and Jervis realised with surprise, that de Warenne was smiling his approval. The helmet bobbed slightly, as his lord nodded his head.

"I need you to take a message to Duke Richard," said de Warenne. "Tell him that Prince Edward has driven back the London mob, and that we are holding fast on this wing. Ask how he fares in the centre, and what news there may be of the King s progress. Go on foot, it is but a short distance, and you will be less visible."

"Yes, my lord," replied Jervis. He swung down off the horse and began to make his way along behind the line of battle, moving at a fast jog-trot. De Warenne watched him go.

Jervis FitzHugh was a courageous young man, he decided, who should be rewarded at the fighting s end, if he, de Warenne, should live to see it.

Jervis kept up his pace as he made his way over the uneven ground. Despite the fierce fighting, neither side had made much progress, for all de Montfort s advantage of the downward slope. The greater numbers on Henry s side had made it easier for them to force their way uphill, and the initial rush had carried them a good way. Here and there lay the dead,