The Road to Poitiers by Jonathan Lunn

Author:Jonathan Lunn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Canelo
Published: 2024-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

The clarion’s shrill cry sounded clear across the shallow valley to where the English waited behind the hawthorn hedge. ‘Here they come!’ shouted someone.

Kemp gazed at the glittering figures crowding the horizon a little less than half a mile away. There was movement over there, but it was impossible to tell if they were advancing or retreating. Then a squadron of riders broke away and advanced down the opposite slope at a trot. A second squadron headed towards a point somewhere towards his right, but they would be someone else’s problem. The first squadron looked as though it was headed to where the Company of the Dragon was arrayed on the left flank.

The riders came on in no great hurry, but that was not to be wondered at. If the horses started out at the gallop – weighed down by their barding, and carrying armoured men-at-arms – they would be exhausted long before they reached the English array. They only really needed to quicken their pace to a gallop once they came within bowshot, for the faster they covered the final furlong, the fewer of them would be brought down by arrows, and they would still be going full tilt when they reached the hedge. A few riders on the flanks broke into a canter, but it was only to draw level with the men in the vanguard, widening their formation. Here and there a banner or pennon fluttered from the tip of one of the lances the men-at-arms carried upright, with the butts resting on their saddle bows.

Kemp tilted his kettle helmet to one side, at a jaunty angle that would stop the steel brim from getting in the way of his bowstring when he drew. His bow in his hand, he turned to face his men, pacing along the front of their array. Each twenty was drawn up in three ranks: seven in the front row, six in the middle and the remaining seven at the back. With ten twenties in his company, its share of the front line was a little over a hundred yards long. Grim, grimy faces stared forward, some taut and ashen, others blank, giving nothing away. He looked to see each man’s bow was strung, his sheaf of arrows planted head-down in the soil at his feet. Every man’s attention was fixed on the men-at-arms trotting down the opposite slope, though here and there a pair of eyes flickered towards Kemp. He pasted a smile he was far from feeling on his face. ‘This shall be a fine day, lads. The whoresons ride straight into our trap!’

Ieuan looked perfectly at ease; bored, almost, but Kemp knew the Welshman too well to fear he might be suffering from a bout of overconfidence. Ryedale looked calm, unruffled, perhaps a hint of a sneer in the corners of his mouth as he watched the men-at-arms approach. He had been here before and knew what to expect. Lovett looked anxious, but then Lovett always looked anxious. Marwick’s face was inscrutable, though many of the men in his twenty looked nervous.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.