‘Meulon,’ said Killbere. ‘Don’t kill anyone you don’t have to.’

The throat-cutter’s teeth bared behind his thick beard. To a stranger it was a snarl. To those who knew him it was his attempt at a smile.

Killbere winced as the captains walked back into the forest to gather their men. ‘Meulon can turn a man’s bowels to water.’ He drank from a wineskin. ‘And that’s before he draws his knife.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

Screams of terror haunted the darkness as flames from the burning village lit the night sky. Meulon and Renfred had travelled across well-worn roads until reaching the cave-black forest, where the pitiful cries of innocents being slaughtered guided them through the trees. They halted at the edge of a clearing, watching shadows flit this way and that three hundred yards away as routiers murdered and raped their way through the undefended town.

Indistinct voices pierced the mayhem. Dogs yelped in pain and then fell silent. A woman broke free from four men who had entered her house and dragged her out. The men did not stop her. They laughed; two of them unsheathed their knives and used her for target practice. Both knives found the woman’s back. Then they hauled a child from its hiding place in the bushes nearby as it screamed for its dead mother. A blade glinted blood red in the fire glow. The child dropped with a slashed throat. One man kicked the body and the others turned away to inflict more carnage.

Meulon’s grunt was a savage expression of disgust. His hand reached for his knife. ‘Renfred, find your way back. Bring Sir Thomas. These bastards will destroy everything before we make another ten miles down the road.’

The German captain placed a restraining hand on his friend’s arm, knowing Meulon’s intentions. ‘You cannot go in there alone.’

They got to their feet. The giant hobbled his horse. ‘We have never slain children, Renfred. These men will kill every living creature. We need a prisoner to tell us who these bastards are. Fetch Sir Thomas. Do as I ask.’ Without another word, he ran, his great frame hunched as he used the forest edge for cover.

Renfred hesitated. The urge to accompany his friend tore at him. It would take hours to bring Blackstone but they needed men at their back if they were to pursue these killers. His hand smothered his horse’s muzzle. The sturdy beast shifted, ready for him to clasp the reins and put his weight into the saddle, man and horse accustomed to each other, ready to ride hard.

*