‘Mount!’ he bellowed. Caught unaware, they had only moments to untie their horses and ride into the clearing. Barely half the men were in the saddle when Blackstone and his men charged into sight. There was near enough five hundred yards for Blackstone to cover. Men cursed as their horses fought the rein when they tried to mount, startled by the sudden appearance of the other riders. As Blackstone’s men spilled into the open ground, de Hayle saw how few they were. He spurred his horse forward. Santos was halfway across the clearing when he saw the horsemen appear from the trees; he yanked the reins too hard and his horse stumbled. He pitched forward, landing heavily on the unyielding ground. He lay still.

Le Bête’s men broke free of the trees in extended line. Blackstone would soon reach the centre of the plateau. De Hayle’s swarm of men would dictate the fight. The mercenary grunted with satisfaction. Blackstone must intend to strike hard at de Hayle’s centre. It would suck them into the fray and then his men would encircle the foolhardy Blackstone and crush him.

‘We have them!’ he bellowed, waving his sword to signal the encircling command.

No sooner had de Hayle’s men broken left and right than Blackstone’s men halted, heeling their horses into defensive ranks, shields raised. If de Hayle’s men punched through from any flank, front or side, Blackstone’s men could isolate and kill them. It was too late for de Hayle to halt his own manoeuvre; his men were peeling away, now as uncertain as himself. Blackstone’s sudden change of tactic made de Hayle pull up; the men who rode with him were now scattered across the plateau, wheeling horses away from the attack.