‘And I’ll take pleasure in having you at my mercy,’ said Will Longdon, settling next to Meulon and opening his sack of herbal tinctures and creams, jealously guarded these past few years since inheriting them from a woman apothecary who had sacrificed her life to save Blackstone’s.

‘Aye, and when I die I shall haunt you at night and plague you during the day.’ Meulon whispered, coughing from the effort of tormenting Longdon.

Blackstone went to where Renfred waited with the bound prisoner. The routier glared at the scar-faced man who looked down at him. ‘Get him to his feet,’ said Blackstone.

Renfred yanked the man up and pressed him back against a tree. The man’s misshapen face reflected his brutal life. The flattened nose, and a cheekbone clearly broken years before and never set cleanly, gave his face a lopsided look. What teeth he had were little more than blackened stumps. It was no surprise that lice itched in his beard, making him bend his head to his shoulder to scratch.

‘Water, my lord. I am parched. My throat’s as dry as the sole of my boot.’

‘Your stench offends,’ said Killbere. ‘You’ve soiled yourself.’

He nodded towards the prostrate Meulon. ‘The fucker damned near broke my neck. That would loose anyone’s bowels.’

‘You’re an Englishman. Who do you serve?’ said Blackstone.

‘I’m a veteran of the war, my lord. I served the King.’

‘The English or the French, you arsewipe?’ said Killbere.

‘Now, now, sir knight. I gave my blood on the field at Poitiers like many a stout-hearted man from Gloucester. And like many of my comrades I was cut loose when the war was won. I fight so I may live. Rough wine and a piece of mutton is not much for a man to ask for, eh? You know well, my lord, you and Sir Thomas Blackstone here. I know your blazon and your legend right enough. You did your fair share of slaughter.’

Renfred slapped him, splitting his lip. ‘We neither rape nor kill women, you whoreson. Do not foul Sir Thomas’s name.’

The routier spat blood. The blow meant nothing to a man used to violence. ‘Kill me and be done with it. I have nothing to bargain with.’

‘I can give you to the survivors and let them tear you apart,’ Blackstone said. ‘Or you can have wine until you’re senseless and then I’ll hang you. Choose.’

He bared his blackened teeth. ‘A good bargain, Sir Thomas. I’ll take the wine and the rope.’

‘Then who commands you? Who is Ronec?’