Blackstone bent, yanked the knife free, ignoring the man’s wide-eyed gaze as he writhed, choked on blood, and then slumped into death. The camp was silent except for men’s heavy breathing as they gulped air from their exertions. John Jacob and Blackstone’s other man had clubbed the last routier to the ground. He continued to fight but Blackstone’s squire hit him again. Between them they hauled the unconscious body to the remaining tethered horses as Blackstone pushed through the undergrowth to the open grassland. Four hundred yards away, where the strip of land narrowed, two horses and their riders lay dead. Blackstone raised his arm to signal the all clear. Will Longdon and his bowmen stepped out of the woodland and returned the gesture and then went forward to check the dead and retrieve what arrows might be used again. John Jacob handed Blackstone a horse’s reins. The unconscious routier and Blackstone’s dead man-at-arms were tied over another. When they reached Will Longdon, the rest of the men doubled up on the routiers’ mounts.

As darkness fell the dead lay gazing at the heavenly moon whose silver cloak bathed the dew-laden grassland in a field of glittering jewels.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Darkness protected Blackstone’s camp. No enemy would attempt an uphill attack at night and when Blackstone returned Killbere ordered the fires to be rekindled and torches lit. The long shadows of the returning men with their prisoner stretched across the hillside, looming giants stalking the fearful boy. Beyard saw his dread and put him to work building the fire. The primal comfort of watching flames lick the darkness, sparks rising to the heavens, offered warmth and banished menace.

They laid the dead man-at-arms, bound in linen, on the back of the wagon away from any opportunistic wild animals. They tied the prisoner, hands behind his back, the rope looped around his throat. John Jacob lowered a flaming torch close to his belligerent face.

‘Be done with it, you bastards,’ he said, throat hoarse from the tightness of the rope. Men needed courage to face death as often as they did during violent times and his contempt for his captors was evidence that he understood his fate.

‘Save yourself,’ said Blackstone. ‘If you tell me what I want to know I’ll set you free without weapons or horse but you will find food and sanctuary within a day’s walk.’

‘And without a flint or fire the night beasts will take me if I don’t find sanctuary before darkness.’

‘Then you’ll have to walk quickly,’ said Killbere.

‘What is your name?’ said Blackstone.

‘What difference does that make?’

‘You’re an Englishman riding with a murderer for profit. I don’t like killing Englishmen but if I have to it’s good to know who they are. Humour me.’

‘Fuck you.’

Killbere delivered a swift kick to the man’s ribs.

‘And fuck you too,’ he said to Killbere.