It was from that direction the thundering, rolling noise came, a large near-round stone, loosing smaller rocks as it raced with increasing pace towards him. His mount, spooked by the noise and with no rider to exert control, reared up and spun to face back down the path with enough force to nearly pull the reins from his hand, and that left William on the horns of a dilemma: if he fought to control his horse they might both perish, so he grabbed his shield, which he had looped round the saddle horn, let the reins go and smacked the animal hard to add to its desire to escape. Then he turned to face the increasing avalanche of rocks.
The boulder which had set off the rush, being the largest, was the most dangerous, for if lesser rocks might maim him, that would kill. Even concentrating on that for no more than a couple of seconds, he saw something behind it, a movement which registered the outline of what looked like a human head at the very top of the slope. Such an observation did not allow for delay: given what was coming his way, there was only one method of survival — shelter — and he began to bound downhill ahead of the inundation, towards the treeline, looking for something large enough behind which to hide.
Only one outcrop, though it looked too small, appeared to give him even half a chance, but there was no time to seek out anything else or make the treeline so he dived behind it, cowering under his shield, trying to claw his way into the unyielding moss which covered the ground to increase his chances. The smaller rocks began to bounce off the shield immediately, each with a resounding thud, and it was only good fortune that those big enough to immolate him either missed his shelter or, on hitting the slab of near-flat rock behind which he lay, bounced enough to clear his shield. In seconds the roar of the avalanche had faded to be replaced by the sound of tearing wood as trees were smashed to splinters. Then there was silence, and with some trepidation William stood upright and, taking out his sword, even if he knew it to be useless, looked up the hill, wondering who it was who had tried to kill him.
He saw not one head, but two, silhouetted against the skyline for no more than another second, which made him turn away quickly to give the impression he had seen nothing. Sword and shield still in his hand, he began to jog down the slope into the trees, then turned to follow downhill, as closely as he could, the line of the path, knowing that somewhere below he would find his horse.
The animal, once clear of the perceived danger, had stopped at the first open patch of decent grass and was now grazing contently, though in the way horses do, it had a wary eye on him as he approached, as if trying to sense his mood. It shied away only once, as if to denote independence, but a sharp word from a man who had owned and ridden the beast for years made it stand still and put back its ears in disquiet, as though it was aware of having let him down.
If it expected to be chastised, no harsh words came: if William could not have stood still in the face of that rush of stone, why should a more fragile horse? Trained for combat it might be, but it was no destrier, endlessly exposed to noise and threat so that it became fearless. This was a lighter mount bred for movement, fleet of foot but still a prey animal that saw danger everywhere and was blessed — or was it cursed as all equines were? — with near all-round vision. So it was patted and spoken to with gentleness, until those flattened ears were once more up and pricked. Back in the saddle, William made no attempt to retrace his route: instead he headed away from that rising path, along the valley floor in the cover of as many trees as he could find, at an easy trot.
Once he was round the base of the hill he spurred his mount into a faster pace, and emerging from the trees he looked for a way to get to the obverse side of the hill by a longer route, and one that would allow him to do so at speed. Somewhere out there were the people who had set that boulder in motion and there was a very good chance they were on foot. Being on a patch of cultivated land, cleared of obstacles, allowed him to set his mount to a steady canter, and in a short time he could see the entrance to the next valley.
That was when he gave his mount its head, aware that the sound of his hooves on what was soft polder would carry, which might just flush out his quarry on what he could see was an equally wooded lower slope. Even if there was no one to yet chase, there was exhilaration in the mere act of galloping; being a responsible military commander did not allow many opportunities to indulge in such as this: a pleasure he had enjoyed many times as man and boy, bent over the straining neck, the wind whistling in his ears, knowing that each thudding hoof on this forgiving ground would send up a clod of mud to rise in the air behind him, aware also that his horse, like all its fellows, loved to run flat out.
If the pair had stayed in the trees he would have had a hopeless time trying to spot them: it was foolish to break cover and try to outrun a mounted man. The other fact which registered as soon as he espied them was that one was either a dwarf or a boy-child, while the other was shaped like, and ran like, a female. William had his sword out again, and given his mount was tiring he needed to spur to maintain his speed. The child was falling behind and when the other turned to take a hand and help he saw, indeed, that it was a female, a girl not a woman, of no real age.
Time seemed to slow: William saw the dark eyes and tangled long hair, as well as the terror at the sight of his sharp, broadsword blade, now held out from his side in a way that, swept in an arc, would cut in half anyone with whom it made contact. He was sure he could hear rasping breath as well as a gasp of fear as he closed with the pair, who sought to make a sharp turn to thwart him. Letting his mount slow, William hauled it round inside its own length and closed with both his quarry, now so close he could hear the screams of the child, still lagging behind, even being near dragged.
Coming alongside now, William’s blade swept down, turned at the last moment, with him reaching low, so the flat of it took the running boy on the buttocks with enough force to knock him to the ground. Then he was ahead of both and turning, hauling on his reins and pressing with his thighs to take all forward movement out of his horse so he could block any continued flight, forcing it to rear and stop.
The falling boy-child had dragged down the female, and she had fallen to her knees, head down, but that did not last, and when she looked up at the now stationary rider the near black eyes had in them no trace of fear, more of hate. Breathing heavily from his own exertions, as was his mount, William dismounted and, sword to the fore, demanded of them who they were, using Greek. When that brought no response he tried his limited Italian, another failure which had him attempting to get an answer in Latin, the most common language of the world in which he lived, but one he knew before he spoke was unlikely to elicit a response.
In doing this he was able to examine the still-kneeling pair, taking in their rag-like, dun-coloured clothing which covered their undernourished frames, the filth with which their skin seemed ingrained, that on a dark colouring which denoted an outdoor life, as did their hair, black and matted, their feet bare. The boy could not have been ten years old, but being of stunted growth made it impossible to be sure; the girl was older and beginning to show signs of maturity, and it was to her he barked his enquiry.
Getting no response, William was at a loss what to do: a pair of adult men would now be dead, their heads lopped off while he was still mounted, but he could not bring himself to do the same to this pair, even if they had, it seemed, tried to kill him. Or had they? He had not seen them dislodge that boulder — it could well have been an accident — yet in the eyes of the girl was a look of such deep enmity that implied such a thing was not the case.