I delivered my herd to King Richard’s grooms and they were added to a large bunch of animals that had been gathered from the surrounding countryside; some, evidently, had been the property of rich knights until recently, their Greek owners having either perished or been captured in the battle.
I dismissed the archers and went to seek further orders from Robin. I found him with the King, and a gathering of leading knights, clerks and members of the King’s familia.
Sir Robert of Thumham, the King’s High Admiral, was speaking as I joined the group, standing behind Robin on the fringes as befitted my lowly status. The sun was sinking at the far end of the beach, setting the sea on fire, in dazzling hues of red and gold, catching the King’s bright locks and seeming to give them an effect almost like a halo. ‘Sire,’ said Sir Robert, ‘our scouts have followed their army and they tell me that the Emperor and his knights are no more than five miles away, and are preparing to spend the night.’ He cleared his throat, and continued. ‘But it seems that there are many more of them than we had imagined. The Emperor has been reinforced by knights from the north of the island, who arrived too late today to participate in the battle.’
‘How many are they?’ asked the King; he was staring up into the air watching a pair of swallows twist and turn about each other in some elegant avian game.
‘Well, sire, the scouts say,’ Sir Robert swallowed, ‘more than three thousand men in all, including servants, camp followers and the like. With more men reported to be on the way. When we have disembarked all the men and horses, we shall easily overmatch them, but that cannot be achieved until the end of the week, at the very earliest. ’ ‘
‘I will attack them now, tonight, with whatever knights can find a horse and a saddle and have the courage to follow me. I cannot wait until the end of the week. The Emperor will slip away and hide in the mountains if I do not smash him now; and then it will be months before I can take this island. No. I must strike him now.’
‘But sire, that is madness,’ said a senior clerk, a weaselly little fellow called Hugo, whom I knew slightly and heartily disliked. ‘They are more than a three thousand, and we have but fifty horses, look sire…’ and he waved his arm towards the corral where less than three score sea-sick and mismatched animals were being fed with some rather damp, and no doubt salty, hay.
‘Sir clerk,’ said Richard frostily, and I realised with a little peep of wicked pleasure that the King had just been called a madman to his face, ‘you stick to papers and books, and leave the fighting and the chivalry to us.’ I stifled a smile to see the clerk put down, but there were more serious matters to hand. The King was attempting a night attack on an army three thousand strong with a tiny force of ill-mounted knights; and the odds against us were sixty to one. Each knight would be facing sixty enemies. Sixty! Perhaps the clerk was right — perhaps the King was mad!
Chapter Thirteen
I counted fifty-two knights, when we formed up above the beach in complete darkness, and almost in silence, for there was a sombre air about our coming endeavour; all metal accoutrements on the saddles had been muffled with cloth, lest it clink during our advance and give warning to the Emperor’s men; the knights spoke in whispers, gravely, as befitted men who were facing death, although I do not believe there was a single coward among them. Priests moved on silent feet through the horsemen, blessing weapons, sprinkling holy water on the knights and murmuring prayers. The most fortunate, including the King and the Earl of Locksley, were mounted on the destriers of captured Griffon knights; the less fortunate on assorted animals, some no better than carthorses and mules, that I had rounded up from Limassol, or on beasts that had been brought ashore from the ships that evening. I was on Ghost, who had recovered remarkably quickly from his ordeal on the wild ocean, and seemed to relish having his four feet on dry land. I caught sight of Sir Richard Malbete mounted on a thin two-year-old which looked too frail to bear his weight. He caught my look and returned it with his flat feral stare; then, holding my gaze, he ran a mailed finger down the red scar on the side of his face. I smiled at him mockingly, showing my teeth.
At a quiet signal from the King, we moved off in two files, with scouts ahead and to the sides, trying to keep in position and make as little noise as possible as we rode through the orange groves, sniffing a hint of fragrant blossom on the still air. The May night was warm, and a big yellow half moon gave us enough light to see the man riding in front and beside us; I was feeling nervous, I admit, the ice snake slithering once again in my belly; but I was prepared to trust my King to lead us to victory as he had done so swiftly that morning.
After about an hour, the column came to a halt in an open space behind a low ridge, and with the minimum of fuss those knights with lances, about half of our pathetic force, formed a line in front, and those of us without, including myself, who had not thought to bring more than my usual sword and poniard, and my mace, formed a line behind. The knights in the front rank, each wielding a twelve-foot razor-edged spear, would be the shock troops. They would primarily use the weight of their chargers and the points of their lances to ride over and crush any formation of men that opposed them; the second wave, would mop up behind them, attacking the shattered lines of the enemy with sword and mace. That was the theory.
The King rode between the two lines, addressing us in a low carrying voice. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘You have all fought with great courage today already, and we have tasted sweet victory. But I ask you now to fight again, to show your prowess once more in our cause. They are many, and we are few; but they have been beaten once and will be beaten again. Now they sleep, warm in their blankets, thinking that we are far away, but we shall show them how this army can fight. Yes, they are many, and we are but a handful, but think how much glory we shall share between us, we few, when victory is ours.’ The King turned his horse and began to ride back down the lane between the two ranks of horsemen. He caught my eye as he passed and smiled, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
‘God is with us in this endeavour, and our cause is just,’ he said, only just audibly. I could see the knights leaning forward in their saddles to hear him. ‘Now listen close: we will ride straight for the Emperor, and make him our prisoner; nothing else matters. Shout your war cries, call on God’s blessing and ride straight for the golden standard; with that in our hands the battle is done, the enemy will melt away like snow in springtime. God be with you all.’
And he took his place in the centre of the front line.
‘Forward,’ the cry came harshly in the still night. ‘For God and King Richard,’ It was louder, far louder than the King’s words, and I realised that it was Robin’s voice, his battle voice, which could be heard for half a mile, and at the same time two trumpeters began to sound their horns, blasting out the order to charge, ta-ta-taaaa, ta-ta-taaa. It was shocking in the stillness of the orange groves to hear such a tumult, and that was its intention, to cause shock and terror in the enemy; the first line gave a great shout, each man bellowing his war cry, and the line went forward, up the slope of the hill and disappeared over the crest; I shouted ‘Westbury!’ adding my voice to those of my companions, and we in the second line put our spurs to work and followed obediently behind them.