The quarry was the strongest place to defend should they have to fall back but it could also be a death trap if Blackstone’s men were overrun and their enemy scaled the cliff face and shot down into them. Blackstone secured the bastard horse’s reins. Lázaro led his own and Beyard’s horse into the quarry. The boy had become an untiring ward of the Gascon.

‘Lázaro!’ Blackstone called.

The lad changed direction and met Blackstone as he strode towards him. ‘My lord?’

‘You know to keep clear of my horse?’

‘I do, lord.’

‘Good. Where has Beyard instructed you to be when the fight comes?’

‘Here with the horses. Some will not be used to sound of battle so I will calm them as best as I can.’

‘Not mine, remember.’

‘I would not wish to go near yours, Sir Thomas.’

Blackstone stroked his hand down Beyard’s horse’s face. ‘Lázaro, you have travelled the length of France and across Spain with us and your courage has been noticed.’

The lad shrugged. ‘I am with brave men, lord, how could I not feel strong? But I still fear Ranulph de Hayle. Is he one of the men coming to fight?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘He will seize or kill me if he finds me. It is the person who killed the Queen who wants me. I cannot tell you who that person is, Sir Thomas. But I fear I will still die.’

‘He won’t get to you, Lázaro. If he is with the French and if every man here dies in battle, you can run. You go over that mountain and find any town or village and seek refuge. Take whatever you can carry. You have Beyard’s blessing and mine to save yourself.’

The boy listened attentively. He touched the crucifix. ‘My Queen prayed for my safety and her prayers were answered. I have prayed for my Lord Beyard and for you, Sir Thomas. You will win this fight and we will all go home together.’

A sharp screech echoed down into the quarry from the sky above. The horse shied but Lázaro held it easily enough. The hawk circled and then stooped away out of sight.

Lázaro smiled. ‘You see, Sir Thomas, the hawk watches over us. She is our angel in the sky.’

Blackstone let the boy lead the horses away. Angel or demon? They would soon know.

*

‘Salam!’ Will Longdon called as Moors dragged dead wood from the river to impede horses clambering up the shallow bank. The Moor stopped and dropped the bleached tree trunk.

‘English,’ he said, addressing Longdon the only way he knew how.