De Hayle bore down on him with savage, unrelenting blows. It was all Blackstone could do to block them. He gripped the end of Wolf Sword’s blade with his free hand and blocked the assault. The man’s strength forced him back. Blackstone could barely stand now. He blinked. Sweat stung his eyes, blurring the relentless figure of de Hayle. His mind went blank. His ears rang from the clashing steel. He slipped and fell backwards. It took de Hayle by surprise but he rammed his blade towards Blackstone’s face. Blackstone twisted, the blade’s edge so close it nicked his cheek. The forward thrust forced de Hayle off balance again. He dropped forward, knees ramming Blackstone’s chest. Pain shot through Blackstone but he kept Wolf Sword’s blade across his chest.

‘I’ll kill you with my bare hands,’ de Hayle spat, grabbing Blackstone’s throat.

Blackstone bucked but could not throw the man clear. He choked. The stench of the man’s fetid breath was nauseatingly close. Blackstone squirmed, found freedom with his right arm and shoulder, forced a half-roll and rammed Wolf Sword’s cross piece into de Hayle’s left eye. He screamed, released his hand and rolled clear. Blackstone clawed to his knees, sucked air into his belly and let de Hayle stumble a few paces away to retrieve his sword. Blackstone was desperate for respite. The poison was now racing through his body. De Hayle found his sword and wiped blood from his blinded eye.

Blackstone staggered uncertainly to his feet. He heard someone call his name. He looked left and right but there was no one. He was hallucinating. Thomas! Come on, you lazy-arsed bastard! Be done with him! We have a battle to attend. Blackstone turned and saw Killbere astride his horse not a hundred yards from where he fought. Blackstone’s captains were with him in front of their men. John Jacob, Beyard, Meulon, Renfred, Jack Halfpenny and Will Longdon. Shall I put a shaft of English ash through him, Sir Thomas? called the archer.

Blackstone’s puzzlement got the better of him. He shook his head. ‘No. I can take him,’ he muttered, but his grip barely held Wolf Sword. The strength had gone from his arm and hand.

‘Blackstone!’ De Hayle’s sharp retort made him turn to the routier. ‘Your mind has gone. Your strength with it. Throw down your sword and I’ll finish it.’

Blackstone looked again to where the host of his men waited. He saw the army behind his captains. It was every man who had followed him into battle and fought at his side. Banners fluttered. Drums beat out their rhythm and trumpets blared. Killbere raised himself in the saddle. Never yield! Rise up and carve a path to glory, Thomas. We’ve a fight on our hands. Rise up! The men’s roar thundered so loudly Blackstone took a step back. RISE UP AND FIGHT! came the bellowing chorus.