The Retreat (medieval historical fiction)

Chapter 7 Speeches and Exhortations

A more ideal place for an ambush we could not hope for. The road curved here, so that our knights could be mounted nearby but out of view of the treasure cart. Better still, on either side of the paved way the forest rose, so that our footsoldiers would be attacking downhill.

On top of the cart, Gerard was shouting in short, clear sentences. The whole of our small army was pressed close and the fact that the road was at the bottom of a dip meant that even those of us who were mounted and at the back could hear him clearly over all the heads.

Only the wind in the trees and the flutter of flags challenged Gerard's voice, for the crowd was still with eerie attentiveness.

'King Bratislav is coming. Haven't his men worked all night to rebuild the bridge? We have about one hour and they will be upon us. We cannot flee. We have to fight.

'This is good ground for us to fight upon. We will press them tight and the very size of King Bratislav's army will work against him. The mutur and everyone from Lotharingia will hide in the trees on the north side,' he gestured. 'And the Milan Company and everyone from Francia the south. Our knights will charge up the road on my signal.

'Everyone will fight: men; women; youths; monks and nuns. Borrow a weapon if you have none. Because unless we win today, everyone will die. Those of you who are not trained to fight in war, stay well back in the forest until the professionals are fully engaged. Then come in roaring as loud as you can. Make it seem like our numbers are vast.

'This is going to be a hard, ugly battle. Make no mistake. And victory will go to the most vicious. That's us. Have no thought for your safety; you have none. Have no thought for retreat; there can be none. Have no thought of surrender; King Bratislav will kill you and it will not be an easy death. Have in your thoughts only this: how to harm and kill those who will otherwise kill you.

'Look around you. This is brotherhood, united in face of death. Fight for yourself, fight for your neighbour. Fight to revenge those cruelly deceived by King Bratislav.

'That is all.'

A great cheer, mostly from his own men, filled the space between the trees. It was loud and heartening.

With an impatient gesture, Rainulf had Gerard haul him up onto the cart. Gerard was a strong-looking man, whose muscular frame was emphasised by his thick leather shoulderpads and the curve of his body armour. Yet beside Rainulf, he looked small and aged. Equipped for battle, the leader of the mutur was imposing. Hair tied into four long, dark plaids, his tattoos were visible along his neck. Black leather and silver chainmail guarded his thick torso and powerful limbs. Rainulf carried a heavy, iron-studded mace as though it were a twig.

Tapping the lid of the treasure chest with his mace, Rainulf gave us all a grin, his discoloured tooth making him leer.

'I have just one thing to say and I say it to the mutur: we want this treasure.' He paused. 'So we have to fight for it!'

With cheers and cries from his own, Rainulf leapt back down to the road.

'About turn,' called Count Stephen and the knights with him led the whole army a few hundred yards up the road before halting.

Then the footsoldiers entered the woods on either side, to make their way back to the ambush spot. After them, the poor people took to the trees, with anxious faces and a tight grip on their pitiful weapons. With these peasants limped Arnulf. He could not ride, but, as he'd earlier observed, he could fire a crossbow well enough. One arm around Cateline's shoulders, he gave me a last wave and hobbled away through the trees. I doubted I would see him again and was surprised to find from the pain of this thought that I loved him. Was it possible to love a teacher who was all blows and reprimands? Evidently.

Soon enough, only those too wounded or feeble to fight were left on the road behind us knights. A handful of ancient, doddery monks and nuns were gathered in a circle, on their knees and praying. Among the invalids lying on our collection of carts was Robert, out of his armour, torso wrapped around and around in thick layers of bandages. He pulled himself up to a sitting position.

'This is bollocks.' The shaking gesture Robert was making with his head was emphasised by his large ears and sharp nose. 'Lying here, useless. Waiting to see if I'm to live or die.'

'You'll live,' said Count Stephen quietly. I stared at the elderly man, hoping that his words were not just fashioned for encouragement, that he really meant them. It was impossible to say. The count's deeply lined face was solemn, but it always seemed so.

'Well, gentlemen.' The count turned to his men and included me in the steady gaze of his grey eyes. 'The footsoldiers will fight well, no doubt. But their fate depends upon us. And we will save all our people, will we not?'

His men murmured their agreement.

With a strange, distant smile, Count Stephen turned his courser about and walked it to face the bend that led back to the ambush site. There was room for one horse each side of him, leaving me five riders back behind him in the final row. A pitiful fourteen knights in all.

I checked my tack, my armour straps, and my shield straps. Again.

Through the gaps in the tree branches above me I could see blue sky. Moss and ivy grew thick on the nearby trees. The floor of the forest was green with creeping honeysuckle and sorrel. It was a joy to be alive, to breathe, to listen to the chatter of the birds. To have all my limbs and live without pain.

Why had I been so eager to join the Holy Expedition? I had been so proud, riding out under the gates of Castle Rocadamour with Arnulf and our two poor squires. Above me, I had been aware of Alice's attempts to strew our path with rose petals; I was always the brave knight of song to her. William had waved from the walls too, enviously. How desperately jealous he had been of me, filling castle rooms with his shouts of frustration and his pleadings to be allowed to come with me. But our father would not budge and how right he had been. At least William would live to continue the dynasty.

What kind of preparation for battle was this? I could not think of home now, or the men around me would see my tears. Instead, I thought of Cateline. At least mine would be a quick death. Would hers?

Was there really a heaven? Would I see my family again there? How did the priests know?

At last, at long last, an arrow came whistling out of the trees to fly high above our heads.

Drawing Lifestealer, Count Stephen looked over his left shoulder, then his right. 'Forward!'

From a walk to a trot and then a canter as we came around the bend. My stallion – Arnulf's – was keen.

Then I saw King Bratislav's army and began to laugh aloud.