Salam stepped forward, smiled and placed a hand on the Englishman’s shoulder. He nodded, as if understanding all that had not been said. With a look of what could have been regret he looked to where their horses were. His voice was low, his meaning clear. They would die with their horses in the attack. The Moor turned back to his tasks, leaving Will Longdon with a premature sense of loss.

*

‘They’ll get slaughtered if they ride out,’ Will Longdon told Blackstone. ‘And the way Salam looked I reckon that’s their plan.’

‘Speak to the Moor, Thomas,’ Killbere said.

Blackstone nodded. If his centenar’s suspicion was correct, he was about to lose six hundred fighting men being led away from the battle lines. ‘Will, you’ve got your lads ready?’

‘Aye. They’ll stand their ground as always.’ He glanced behind him at the rugged cliffs. He grinned. ‘No place else to go.’ He walked away to join his archers, who were already in their ragged formation, ready to stand between the men-at-arms, and to join the fight when their arrows were exhausted.

‘God’s tears, Thomas, we will lose good men in this fight. More men than before, I reckon,’ said Killbere. ‘I’ll fill my belly tonight and spend an hour at the latrines at dawn. Then I’ll be ready for that arrogant Breton bastard. Damn the snivelling French King for paying his ransom. I pray scabs form on him and peel him to the bone.’

‘Gilbert, if your curses could save our day then the battle would already be won.’

‘My curses? Merciful Mother of God, we need the damned witch to put a curse on these ravenous bastards that come for your head.’

‘Then – with your help – I shall try and keep it.’

Blackstone made his way to where al-Hakam was speaking to some of his men. The Moor dismissed them when he saw Blackstone approaching.

‘I had a mind to place boulders and anything else on the bridge to slow them. And when we kill them their bodies will hinder others. You have your horses being fed in the open. I’m no fool, Master al-Hakam, you intend to be across the river, don’t you?’

‘We kill those we can and once they get past us they will have little choice but to use the bridge. And there you can inflict many casualties on them,’ said the Moor’s commander. ‘I have four hundred men with spear and sword and another two hundred archers. We fight on horseback, not like you English who stand and wait for the enemy to come to you.’