Again I heard that unearthly whistling from the mountainside behind me. This time it seemed closer.
‘They’re somewhere on the mountain,’ I gasped. ‘I don’t know who they are or how many.’
‘If they send in more dogs, we’re in trouble,’ said the count. ‘I can deal with three or four. But a pack of them would pull us down.’
We were out in the open now, standing back to back, facing the growling dogs. They were massive brutes, each as big as a small calf, with bear-like shaggy pelts and heavy square heads. All of them wore spiked collars, and it was clear that they were trained for fighting.
Even at that late stage, Hroudland might have successfully completed his raid. He could have risked going back inside the chapel, snatched up the goblet and the plate, and the two of us could have fought our way back down the track. But then there was a sudden movement in the air above us. It was so unexpected that neither of us had time to prepare ourselves. Out of the gloom swooped down a half-seen shape, a darker form against the already dark sky. It came at an unnatural speed, at head height. I felt the rush of air on my face. A whisper of something flashed overhead. Hroudland let out an oath and doubled over as if he had been struck. Durendal clattered to the ground as he let go his sword and clapped his hand to his face. For a moment he stayed bent over, hunched in pain. When he stood upright and removed his hand, blood was streaming from a gash just beside his right eye.
I had barely time to take in what had happened when again I felt that sinister rush of air. This time there was a sharp blow and searing pain across my scalp as something sharp raked across my head. I caught the quick flap of broad wings and the large bird that had attacked me was rising up and away. It was circling, ready to attack again.
In the distance we heard the oliphant horn. Berenger was signalling that there was danger along the path where he stood guard. Our escape route was threatened.
So we ran. We blundered out of the broken gate and down the dimly seen track. The huge dogs harried us every step. They lunged at our heels, snarling and barking, driving us off like the sheep stealers. I had abandoned my bow but Hroudland had managed to snatch up Durendal from the ground. Occasionally he stopped and stabbed and slashed at our tormentors, making them keep their distance. There was nothing we could do about the birds. They swooped out of the darkness and tried to rip out our eyes. Like the huge dogs, they must have been trained to guard the Vascon flocks from wolves and thieves.
Only when we were well clear of the chapel did the onslaught finally cease.
The night sky then clouded over completely. Without light from moon or stars to show us where to put our feet, our progress was like groping through a black pit. We tripped and fell, got up and stumbled forward a dozen or more times. We dared not stop, fearing that our enemies would have time to set an ambush on the track ahead of us. We lost all sense of time or how far we had got, and it must have been well past midnight when someone called out a challenge from directly in front of us. It was Berenger. He heard the noise we made coming down the track.
‘Thank God you’re back,’ he said. The relief in his voice was very evident. ‘The place is swarming with Vascons, hundreds of them on the move.’
‘Which way are they headed?’ asked Hroudland sharply. Even exhausted, he kept his wits about him.
‘Towards the road. They passed me a couple of hours ago. I stayed out of sight until it was safe to sound the alarm.’
‘We press on at once,’ Hroudland announced. It was an order, and he was once again a war leader. ‘I must be back in command of the rearguard before the Vascons fall on us.’
Chapter Nineteen
There was no rearguard, as it turned out. The three of us limped out on to the main road just as the first glow of sunrise seeped into the sky. In the cold light we found the treasure carts gone. The area around the shepherd’s hut where we had previously camped was strewn with the usual rubbish left behind by retreating soldiers. The place was abandoned.
Wearily I sat down on a roadside boulder. My knees were sore and bruised and the palms of my hands skinned raw from the number of times I had fallen.
‘Back on your feet!’ Hroudland hissed at me. The gash on the side of his face where the eagle had clawed him was crusted with dried blood. ‘Gerin and the others can’t have gone far and the Saracen skirmishers will be here soon.’
I rose slowly. Every part of my body ached.
‘Over here!’ Berenger shouted. He had gone across to the shepherd’s hut in search of something to eat.
The count and I joined him. Lying in the dust behind the hut was the Vascon shepherd. His throat had been cut. The front of his wolfskin jacket lay open. Someone had searched the corpse for anything worth stealing. Our dispirited soldiers had been reduced to corpse robbers.
We heard the clatter of horses’ hooves. Someone was riding at speed down the road from the direction of the pass. Berenger and Hroudland drew their swords and ran to take up positions where they could defend themselves. With only a dagger in my belt, I considered whether to take refuge inside the hut but thought better of it. I did not want to be accused of cowardice.
The rider came in view. He had a plain red shield on his arm and Hroudland’s roan war stallion on a leading rein. It was Gerin.
‘I thought you might come back,’ he called out. ‘We don’t have much time.’
He tossed the stallion’s reins to Hroudland and leaned down, extending an arm towards me so that I could scramble up behind him.
‘How far ahead are the others?’ Hroudland demanded, settling himself into the saddle of the roan, and then hoisting Berenger up on to the crupper.
‘Five or six miles. Eggihard ordered the carts to move on as soon as the broken wheel was fixed.’
We set off at a canter, the sound of the hooves echoing off steep rocky slopes. Hroudland had to raise his voice to make himself heard.
‘I told you to make him wait for our return.’
Gerin snorted.
‘Carolus sent Count Anselm back to find out what the delay was all about. The king is worried about the gap between the main army and the last of the carts. Anselm accepted Eggihard’s suggestion that the carters should travel through the night.’
Hroudland cursed both Eggihard and Anselm. The latter was count of the palace and could act with the king’s authority.
‘Where’s Carolus now?’ he called to Gerin.
‘Already through the main pass. He’s taken the main cavalry with him and intends to push on to face the Saxons.’
The road was rising steadily, one bend after the other. I was glad I was no longer on foot. I doubted I had enough strength left to have made the climb. I twisted around, looking back over my shoulder, trying to recall what I had seen when coming in the opposite direction with Wali Husayn. The rocks and slopes all looked alike, featureless and forbidding.
Only when we reached the treasure carts did I know where we were. Up to my left I recognized the rocky slope on which I had killed the Vascon slinger who had ambushed me.
The four treasure carts were halted at the place where Husayn and his men had stopped to say their noonday prayers. Here the road widened out, and there was enough space for the drivers and their oxen to pause and rest. Their escort of some thirty heavily armed cavalrymen was standing around, looking bored and impatient, waiting for the journey to continue. I wondered which one of them had murdered the Vascon shepherd.
Hroudland sprang down from his horse and strode off to confront Eggihard and a tubby, balding man in an expensive-looking war coat of chain mail that extended right down to cover his ample thighs. I guessed he was Count Anselm.