01 Noble Traitor by J R Tomlin

Author:J R Tomlin
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Albannach Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Two weeks after the defeat at the Battle of Loudon, Thomas, the banner of the Earl of Lincoln fluttering on his lance, led ten men-at-arms in a scouting party, Geoffrey riding alongside him carrying the banner of Saint George on his lance.

“Look.” Geoffrey pointed.

Thomas halted his mount and shaded his eyes to peer across the low hills toward the fringe of Paisley Forest. A flock of birds had taken off in a mass from the thinly spaced pines. “Something disturbed them.”

He urged his horse forward with seat and heels and motioned for them to follow. As he trotted forward over the crest of the brae, ten horsemen appeared at the base riding in the opposite direction. Light reflected on the leader’s armor.

“There they are,” Thomas shouted.

A knight was indeed leading a small group of mounted men-at-arms in leather brigandines. And above them fluttered a pennant with a blue chief above a white field.

“That’s the Black Douglas!” Thomas spurred his horse and hammered down the slope, lowering his lance as he went.

Douglas shouted, “Ride!” but riding downhill and already at a gallop, Thomas was gaining fast. He glanced over his shoulder, drew his sword, and wheeled his horse about. As Thomas hurtled towards him, he slowed to a trot.

Thomas glared into Douglas’s unhelmeted face, and then like that day in Scone so many months before, he fixed his eyes on the shield with its device of three white stars on the blue chief. There. He must hit it there. Just below the center star.

At the last second with inches between, Douglas turned his shield at an angle, so Thomas’s lance made a tearing whack splinter flying, sliding along it instead of with Thomas’s full force. Douglas rose in his stirrups and swung as Thomas hurtled past.

Once past, Thomas used his legs, heels, and reins to circle. He accelerated back towards Douglas who wheeled his horse. Thomas’s lance hit his shield square on before he could maneuver. The impact threw Douglas back over the cantle of his saddle as his horse cantered away. Thomas let out a yell of triumph. He tossed aside his lance. He would meet the Black Douglas on even terms and prove who was the better man.

Douglas hit the ground cursing. He surged to his feet, grabbing his sword where he had dropped it.

Clashing metal behind him told Thomas that the others were fighting, but he had no time to even glance as he cantered towards his opponent.

“Jamie!” someone shouted.

As he neared the Douglas, he received a blow like a battering ram in the middle of his back. Totally caught off-guard, it made him lose a stirrup and threw him forward half-way out of his saddle. To try to save himself, he let go of his sword and grabbed his pommel. The horse dragged him a bouncing, painful step. He released his hold on the pommel and fell flat on his stomach in a haze, stars exploding before his eyes. A horse galloped past, missing his head by inches.

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