Kingmaker

Crossbow Bolts #1

Sir Henry Stafford and Sir John Howard had yet to move their army, the men still camped out in Preston. They were none the wiser to how close Ava and her army actually were. That is until two armoured scouts rode towards them, halting quickly and trying to catch their breath. "Sir. There is a figure on the hill to the South. We believe it to be the Lancastrians" panted one of the men clutching his reins tightly. But whilst the information was passed on, the 'figure' had moved closer, dipping in the small valley and out once more. Venturing closer and closer. Ava knew she had to get as close as possible. Within earshot of a few men would be enough to overhear vital information.
Stafford clenched and unclenched his fists, watching the men. "Just one? We need details!" he snapped, standing in such a hurry that his chair flew backwards. "Just one, Sir. It is hard to tell whether they are male or female, Sir" Stafford looked to the soldier, his eyes sharpening. "Why would I care for the gender? A Lancastrian, is a Lancastrian. Regardless of whether they have balls or not" The scouts silenced at the words. Watching Stafford and Howard. "Have our archers sent out. If this. Figure. Gets closer. And wears Lancastrian colours. They shoot. If the Lancastrian is killed. I want their body brought to me" The scouts could do nothing but nod and leave to give the new orders to the archers.
Overall, the army had over 30 highly skilled archers. Each man having several years of experience with the weapon. They would not miss. They might not kill. But they certainley wouldn't miss their target. Even so, just hitting a target was enough to maim them significantly.
Once the men had their orders, they surrounded the South side of the army camp. Some hidden, and some in plain sight. One of them would hit their mark today. In silence, they waited and watched the horizon. The figure was still some distance away. Too far for a crossbow to reach. But they were approaching at significant speed. A trot, a canter maybe. In a split second, Ava had veered off to the left, taking a different approach. And within seconds. She was close enough to hear low, muffled voices. She part of a conversation between two of the soldiers.
"The Crown will fall, brother. Do not fear for that. We will take down the Prince of Wales, and once he is gone, the House of Lancaster will go into hiding. Fight today, brother. Fight till your last breath under Sir Henry and Sir John. These men are great. And will lead all of us to greatness. Who knows. Maybe some of us will be granted titles!" said one, keeping his voice steady though he spoke with such enthusiasm. "Those Lancastrian dogs won't know what to do" chuckled another, his chuckle sounding harsh and determined. "Think of the pay we will get when they fall and when King Henry is stripped of his crown and hung before his own people" The man laughed at the idea of it all. They continued on to talk of how Lancaster would fall and York would rise to power once more. They talked of the Lancastrian women, calling them whores and bitches. These men were York right down to the bone.
Ava tried to hear more; as much as it angered her to hear what they were saying, still keeping her head held high as she did so. That is until she heard a cry of; "Lancastrian sighted!" followed by the unmistakeable sound of crossbows being loaded. It was now or never. She had to escape. As she turned her horse with a jerk of the reins, she urged him into a trot out of the darkness of the cover of trees. The second she was in sunlight, the snap of a crossbow being shot sent chills down her spine. It was mere seconds before she felt the burn of the searing hot crossbow bolt in her shoulder. She threw a glance back at the soldier that had fired the bolt. Sir Henry Stafford and Sir John Howard at his side. They watched, stopping the archer from firing again. "Let her suffer with that one" muttered Stafford none to kindly. His eyes raked over the Lancastrian colours she wore. "Lancastrian dog!" he snarled after her. "Your head will be mine!" he snarled as he watched her gallop from the York camp. dirt kicking up as she did so.
Once she was out of sight once more, Stafford looked to the archer. "On target. Good man" he nodded to the archer, tossing him a few extra coin.
Ava rode on in pain until she could see her army in the distance, with Sir Neville and Sir George approaching them from behind; still quite a way away. She slowed her horse to a trot, dropping the reins to clutch her shoulder. The crossbow bolt had gone straight through her shoulder, the wound bleeding endlessly. Her skin had paled, her eyes though... Her eyes held a dark, dark shade. She'd seen the two men she now wanted dead. And she'd heard more than she had wanted from the York soldiers. None of that mattered right now though. She finally cringed at the pain. Taking her hand from the wound to see that her hand was red with blood. As was her tunic. She dropped from the saddle, landing beside her horse. She was about to hug the stallion when her eyes drifted to a crossbow bolt in the right side of his chest. Her heart stopped as tears now pricked her eyes. "Fucking bastards!" she screamed, now losing all interest in her own wound as she focused on her horse. She felt tears stream down her dirty face as she pressed her hands to her horses' chest. The stallion didn't seem phased by it, but Ava most certainely was. Losing more and more blood as the seconds went by, Ava stumbled alongside her horse towards her army. Her body, heart and mind aching as blood streamed down her, and her horse. She whimpered as she came within sight of them, pressing her hands once more to her horses' wound. "Don't leave me, Crispin" she whimpered as she tried to stop the bleeding. A knights horse was their companion. Their family. Crispin had been with Ava for a long time now. He was more than a horse. He was family. A saviour. Only now did the stallion show signs of weakness. In desperation, Ava tore at the saddle and fabric on his back. Throwing it aside as her army ran to her. She desperately tried again and again to stall the bleeding. Pressing the fabrics to his wound, feeling his nose against her cheek as she did so. Only now had the soldiers seen her cry. She was losing her horse. The one thing they had known her to hold close and love so much. The bolt in her own shoulder had not ceased in its bleeding, painting her right side a bright crimson red. "Yorkist bastards" she cried, in anger. "Damn them. Damn them all!" she screamed as the soldiers reached her. Several pulling her from the stallions' side whilst others tended the horse. There was a chance he could be saved. But Ava was too distraught to know that. Ava pushed the soldiers away from her. "My horse first. Him!" she ordered, motioning to her horse as she moved back to him. She held his reins, hugging his good side in an attempt to calm him. Soldiers had pulled the bolt out, the one man trained in equine treatment began work to try and help the poor stallion. He had said that survival was 99% possible if he worked quickly.
Ava, on the other hand. Didn't look so well. The dirt, tears, sweat and blood made her look fresh from a battlefield. The army of York had made it look like one. As she remained with her horse, the bolt still stuck in her shoulder bleeding endlessly, the soldiers looked behind them as the sound of hoofbeats approached.
Instantly, Sir Richard and Sir George knew something wasn't right. The men seemed up in arms, they seemed edgy.
Only when they saw Ava and Crispin did they know why...

[Authors Note: Ava is hurt! Are the House of York sending a message with the attack? Keep reading!]