" Aye."
"I am Sir Walter Benyt, come from Bampton at Lord Gilbert's urgent request."
"Urgent?" I replied stupidly.
"His lad, the young Richard, has broken his leg… playing on the castle parapet and tumbled off. As I am on my way to London, Lord Gilbert asked me to seek you and beg your speedy return to treat the lad."
"I will do so," I announced, and pushed back my bench so abruptly it tumbled over on the flags. Arthur was up from his place at the same instant, for he had overheard the plea. I had not before heard of this knight, but Lord Gilbert often entertains new guests.
"Young Master Richard is a good lad," Arthur observed, "but of strong will. I heard the nurse screechin' at him some time past to stay off the parapet."
Master John sat near and heard the exchange. I promised him I would return so soon as I might, sent Arthur to the Stag and Hounds to ready the horses, and announced that I was off to the Holywell Street to speak to Kate and would join Arthur at the inn.
I went first to the guest chamber where lay the sack of herbs and instruments I had brought to Oxford. This I threw over a shoulder and hastened to the porter's gate, which I reached as Sir Walter mounted his horse and with his squire clattered across the cobbles toward Schidyard Street.
I wondered briefly that Sir Walter's beast seemed so fresh and willing, prancing about, eager to be off. The horse appeared to be young and strong. His sprint from Bampton seemed to do the animal no harm. Concern for the horse was no concern of mine.
I delayed at Caxton's shop only long enough to speak briefly to Kate and explain my mission. She kissed me lightly on the cheek and bid me farewell and good success in the task before me.
Arthur had Bruce and the old palfrey saddled and waiting when I arrived, breathless, at the Stag and Hounds. Streets were crowded but we urged our mounts through the throng as best we might. Once we were past the castle, the mob thinned and we pushed the horses to a trot as we approached Oseney Abbey.
Riding Bruce at a trot is not an experience I would wish for any. Well, perhaps for Sir Simon Trillowe. The old dexter was not bred for such travel and I was severely jostled while trying to maintain my place upon his broad back. Arthur had much the easier time of it upon the old palfrey, but it soon became clear that his ancient beast could not keep up the pace and would fail long before we reached Bampton. I signaled Arthur to slow his mount. We continued at a fast walk, a gait more suited to both horse and rider.
The road west toward Eynsham and Bampton passes Oseney Abbey, crosses the Thames on Oseney Bridge, then leads through fields for the first two or three miles. It then enters a dense wood before a gentle decline to the river crossing at Swinford. My mind was occupied with the treatment I would undertake when young Richard was in my care, so I gave no notice to the two men, one large, one small, who walked before us on the road.
We were nearly upon the fellows when they turned, having heard our approach, and I saw that the smaller man held a sword close to his leg, so as to disguise that he had it unsheathed and in his hand. Arthur saw the weapon at the same instant, and frowning, turned to me. The larger man carried a cudgel.
As I turned in the saddle to Arthur I caught movement from the corner of my eye. Three horsemen broke from thick cover some hundred paces behind us. These three carried short swords which they waved over their heads as they charged down upon us.
The choice was plain: two men afoot in one direction, one with a sword, or three mounted men in the other, all armed.
"To the river!" I shouted to Arthur, and jabbed my heels into Bruce's elderly, tender flanks. The old horse lumbered into a gallop and bore down upon the men before us who, I think, had thought to block the way. A second glance at Bruce's ponderous approach convinced them of the impractical nature of the task and I caught a glimpse of them diving into the shrubbery beside the road as Bruce thundered past at full gallop.
I turned to see if Arthur followed. He did, urging the old palfrey to greater speed with a swat of his hand upon the beast's rump. Behind Arthur the swordsmen careered in pursuit.
These fellows were mounted upon fleet coursers. Already they had halved the distance at which I had first seen them. Ahead lay the Thames and Swinford. It became my goal to reach the river before these attackers were upon us. Why hope of the river was confused in my mind with safety I cannot say. But it was certain the three who charged after us had evil intent, and Arthur and I were the object.
It was my purse they sought. So I believed. But I gave no thought to halting Bruce and surrendering my coins. Too many times I had heard of men waylaid upon the road, robbed, then put to the sword, their corpses tossed aside into the forest. Dead men cannot identify those who have despoiled them.
We won the race. Bruce galloped into the Thames with a mighty splash. Arthur on his palfrey was but a few strides behind. Bruce seemed to understand the urgency of the matter. He plunged into the current, creating a wash in which Arthur and the palfrey followed. A few paces behind Arthur the first of our pursuers, a red-bearded fellow wearing a green surcoat, also splashed into the stream.
Bruce's great strength and longer legs caused him to leave the palfrey farther behind as together we plunged through the deepest part of the ford. I turned to urge Arthur to haste, as if such admonition was necessary, and saw him do a strange thing.
He leaped from the palfrey's back into the current. A log, which I had not before seen, drifted nearby. Arthur splashed, waist deep, to the log and lifted the water-soaked timber above his head. This was a feat of which I, or any normal man, would have been incapable. But Arthur is a sturdy fellow.
Arthur crouched in the frigid stream, turned to the first of our pursuers and, when he judged the distance reduced enough, threw the log over his head with both hands toward the man's horse.
Arthur's aim was remarkable. The log struck the beast squarely between the eyes. The horse staggered for a moment, then plunged and reared on the slippery stones of the ford. The rider yanked mightily on the reins, trying to control the frightened animal. Instead, he persuaded the horse to rise on hind legs, forefeet flailing the air little more than an arm's length from Arthur's chin.
The beast danced thus in the ford for a moment, then lost his balance and with a great splash toppled over backward into the river. His sword-wielding rider disappeared beneath the struggling animal into the waistdeep water.
Without its rider the palfrey had slowed its progress through the river to a near standstill. Arthur forced his way through the current to the horse, found a stirrup, and raised himself, dripping, to the saddle. With a kick of his heels he put the old horse again into motion and was soon up to Bruce. I had become so captured by the events unfolding behind me that I had neglected to continue prodding Bruce across the stream.
Together Arthur and I and the two old horses emerged dripping from the Thames. Behind us, midway across the river, the upturned horse continued to struggle, belly up, hooves flailing the air, nostrils blowing gouts of water. Of the animal's rider all that was visible were his boots. What remained of him was in the Thames, under the struggling horse, for he had not thrown himself free before the beast pitched over backward upon him.
His companions pulled their mounts to a halt in the midst of the ford and went to work extricating the drowning man from under his frightened horse. To remain and observe this work would have been entertaining. Perhaps a similar event may occur when I will have leisure to enjoy the spectacle.
Bruce and the palfrey clawed their way up the west bank of the river and together Arthur and I prodded the beasts to a gallop. It was but a mile, or little more, to the abbey at Eynsham. I thought our mounts might travel that distance before they collapsed, and thus bring us to safety.