‘Rubbish,’ declared Roger. ‘You need us. Besides, I have enjoyed myself. Moreover, I relieved Sear and Alberic of a considerable amount of money last night. It will more than pay for our journey home, which is just as well, because the funds Henry provided barely saw us out of Sussex.’
‘Unfortunately, now we are at Kermerdyn, the opportunity to solve the murders of William and Mabon is over,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Our companions will go their separate ways and will take their secrets with them. I shall have to tell Henry that I have no idea who killed them, and he may give me another commission to make up for it.’
‘He might,’ agreed Roger. ‘So perhaps we had better invent something, because I have set my heart on being in the Holy Land by spring. Tell him Sear is the culprit. It is probably true, so justice will have been served. And if it is not, well, he is a vile specimen and it serves him right.’
Geoffrey laughed, then became serious again. ‘I wish I could have learned who murdered Mabon. It happened in my own home, and it feels as if a challenge was issued – one I failed to answer. Besides, there was something refreshing about a monastic with original ideas about religion.’
‘His sword would have been useful on the journey, too,’ said Roger. ‘I am sure-’
He ducked suddenly, and both men raised their shields when they heard the unmistakeable sound of an arrow hissing through the air. The first struck Geoffrey’s saddle. Others thudded into his shield, telling him he would certainly have been dead had his instincts not been so finely honed.
‘Not again!’ muttered Roger. ‘I like a fight, but this is beginning to be tiresome.’
Eleven
‘Shields!’ yelled Geoffrey at the top of his voice. Like the warriors they were, Sear, Alberic and Richard heeded the warning without hesitation, which saved the lives of all as a hail of missiles came towards them. Geoffrey spurred his horse forward, aiming to put himself between the attackers and Hilde.
It was a mark of the frequency of the ambushes that the company knew exactly what to do. Hilde took charge of Pulchria, Leah, Delwyn and the servants, hauling them behind Mabon’s cart. Cornald joined them, crossbow at the ready, and he began to return fire as quickly as it could be wound. Sear, Alberic and Richard formed a tight cluster, using their shields to protect each other and themselves, and Gwgan galloped to join Geoffrey. Edward was the only one who dithered, looking back and forth like a trapped rat as he assessed which way to run.
‘Here!’ yelled Geoffrey, seeing he was going to be shot if he stayed where he was. ‘Now!’
Edward’s horse heard the urgency in Geoffrey’s voice, even if its rider was slow to obey, and cantered towards him. Edward gripped the pommel of his saddle to prevent himself from falling off, and a distant part of Geoffrey’s mind wondered how the King could have knighted a man with such dismal equestrian skills.
‘There!’ shouted Roger, stabbing a finger towards a thickly wooded copse. ‘Half are lurking there, and the rest are by the bend in the track.’
‘Attack!’ roared Sear, spurring his way towards the corner. ‘We have reacted defensively for long enough.’
Geoffrey was sure it was proximity to Kermerdyn that induced Sear to make such a rash decision. He was drawing breath to order him back when Roger broke formation and galloped towards the wood. Alberic and Richard tore after Sear, so Geoffrey had no choice but to support his friend. He was aware of Gwgan behind him, armed with a short stabbing sword.
Cursing under his breath – a wood was no place for mounted warriors, and the ambushers held all the advantages – Geoffrey plunged into the trees. He cursed even more when he became aware that the ground was thick with fallen leaves, hiding ruts and roots that were likely to see the horses stumble and their riders thrown. He began to howl his Saracen battle-cry, hoping that its strangeness would unsettle the attackers. The ploy worked, and several promptly turned and crashed through the undergrowth ahead in a bid to escape.
Unfortunately, rather more remained, and the continued hail of arrows indicated they were not about to give up. Geoffrey’s horse whinnied in pain as one scored a furrow across its chest; another glanced off his helmet. When he reached a section where the trees grew more thickly, hampering him further still, men poured out to do battle with him, hacking at his destrier and his legs in equal measure.
It was unlike the other attacks, when the action had been broken off relatively quickly. This time, there was a grim determination – desperation even – among the men who surged forward against him. But even without being able to manoeuvre, his horse gave him height, and he was devastating with his sword, slashing and chopping at anyone rash enough to come within his reach. His destrier, too, had been well trained and began to flail with its front hoofs at those who pressed around it.
Gradually, the ambushers began to fall back, although one continued a frenzy of blows. He howled furiously at his retreating comrades, and several returned to help him. Geoffrey launched another assault that scattered them, then concentrated on the man he was sure was the leader. He lunged with his sword, and when the man was off balance, followed it with a kick that took him in the chest. The fellow flew through the air and landed awkwardly, gasping for breath. Ignoring any knight’s cardinal rule – never to dismount in battle – Geoffrey leapt off his destrier and ran to press his sword against the man’s throat.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded. ‘Speak, and I will let you live.’
‘Go to hell,’ snarled the man, although Geoffrey could see fear in his eyes. He pressed down on the sword.
‘I will ask you once more. Who are you?’
‘I am-’
But the rest of his sentence was lost in a cry of agony as an arrow thumped into the man’s neck. Blood sprayed, and Geoffrey knew the fellow would not be revealing any deathbed secrets. He whipped around, scanning the trees, shield held in front of him. Had one of the man’s own comrades killed him to ensure he did not betray them? Or, he thought grimly, as a quarrel pounded into his shield, had they made a mistake and actually been aiming at him?
The fight had isolated him from his companions, although he could hear sounds of battle to his left. Keeping his shield raised, he ran towards it, unwilling to stay pinned down. He exploded into a clearing with another howl, and the sight of him caused several men to break from where they had been skirmishing with Roger and run for their lives.
Geoffrey’s horse had followed him, so he mounted it quickly and rode to his friend’s side. Roger was breathing hard and held his arm awkwardly.
‘Arrow,’ he muttered.
‘Go back to Hilde,’ ordered Geoffrey. ‘I will find the others.’
Roger wheeled around and was gone, leaving Geoffrey to penetrate farther into the woods. He was angry. It was foolish for experienced knights to let themselves be lured into such terrain, and he wondered what Sear, Alberic and Richard thought they were doing.
He found Sear first. One of the attackers lay dead at his horse’s feet, although he looked to have been shot, whereas Sear only carried a sword. It was curious, but there was no time for questions as more ambushers suddenly poured through the trees.
‘Back!’ yelled Sear. ‘Towards the road.’
He turned and thundered away, leaving Geoffrey with no choice but to follow: there were too many for him to tackle alone. Sear burst into another clearing, where Richard was heavily besieged. Most ran away when they saw reinforcements arrive.
They encountered Edward next, sword drawn and bloody, but his face pale. Gwgan materialized suddenly on foot, leading his horse. He was breathless but unhurt.
‘My horse bolted,’ he gasped. ‘I always considered him a steady beast, and he has never baulked at a battle before. I cannot imagine what-’