‘Now!’ Meulon shouted and his men plunged from the treeline and attacked the searchers. Three of the skinners had made it past Meulon’s line when one of them saw the panicked boy try to break free from Beyard. The Gascon raised himself, dropped his sword and snatched at the lad, holding him tight, but was defenceless except for his shield. That saved him from the first attack. Meulon hurled his spear into the routier’s back and, as Beyard fell, smothering the boy, reached the second mercenary, who was jabbing at Beyard. Meulon’s sword blade rammed beneath the man’s shoulder blade, caught in his ribs and had to be kicked free, which gave the third man time to reach down and seize Beyard. The Gascon captain twisted, slamming his shield upward, smashing the man’s mouth. The man staggered, spat teeth and blood, and died quickly as Meulon dragged his knife across his throat.

As quickly as it started, the attack faltered when the others saw their victim still lived and his attackers lay dead. Meulon’s men had killed seven and suffered three dead from their own ranks. The routiers turned and ran. Meulon looked around him. The camp was safe. He pulled the blanket off ben Josef. The old man flinched.

‘It’s all right; they’ve gone. Help the wounded.’

Meulon strode across to where fearful attendants peered from the trees. ‘Get yourselves back here! Carry the dead away. Hurry. Move your arses.’

They came out, tentatively at first, and then, as the men-at-arms cursed them, they did Meulon’s bidding. They were more frightened of the big bearded man than any chance of the routiers returning.

Meulon helped Beyard to his feet. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No, but I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.’ He tugged the shivering boy to him.

‘We lost three men but we gave a good account of ourselves.’ Meulon flashed a grin from behind his thick black beard. ‘I didn’t know you were worth so much. Being de Grailly’s captain must carry a ransom worth risking a fight for.’

The Gascon shook his head. ‘Not me. They wanted the boy.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

They were dragging the bodies away as Blackstone strode into camp. A breathless Killbere was not far behind. It didn’t take long for Meulon to recount the fight.

‘The boy? Why did they want him?’

‘I don’t know, Sir Thomas,’ said Meulon. ‘Beyard? You’re sure about this?’

The weakened Gascon leaned his weight against a wagon. ‘When they breached the defences they saw the lad. I thought it was me they wanted but when they came at me they reached for the boy. “Come on you little bastard,” one of them said. Definitely the boy, Sir Thomas.’

‘Where is he now?’ said Killbere.