So much for invulnerability.

He leaned into the ear of the woman in front of him. “I need you off,” he said.

“I’m ready,” she said.

He reined Ataelus in, turning to the right. Ataelus understood immediately, and when a little of his heavy speed was shed, he pivoted on his hind legs, almost fully stopped—and the woman slid to the ground with real agility, catching her skirts and rolling.

Nice legs…

Gabriel had his sword in his right hand and his reins in the left. There were at least a dozen men coming at him. But they were spread out over a furlong, and none of the leaders were knights.

They were on the main street of the northern knights’ camp—where the Red Knight and his company would have been in other circumstances. Gabriel could see the red pavilion that was his rally point—he was south and west of it, too far away to do any good.

He had no curses left. He went through the first six men without taking a bad blow—his own actions had been a blur of covers and short, vicious counter-cuts—and the seventh man was all alone and Gabriel reached out with his injured left hand, caught his bridle, and pulled as he back cut with his sword from a high left guard, parrying the man’s boar spear.

The pain was briefly intense as he pulled the horse’s head over—until the horse rolled, crushing its rider.

“That was stupid,” Gabriel said aloud, aware he’d just maimed his own hand.

In that moment, a red thunderbolt struck the rear of the men coming at him. Gavin—in his coat armour—had it all—the red surcoat, the panache, and the magnificent horse barding of red silk—and he looked like an ancient god of war as he struck the pursuers with a war hammer, killing and dismounting men with every swing.

Gabriel sat and watched his brother rout a small army. It was a brilliant feat of arms, and all Gabriel could manage was some desperate panting.

Gabriel backed Ataelus, looking to see if any of the men he’d dismounted were coming at him from behind. He turned his horse, and the blonde woman was astride one of the armoured pages, with a dagger at his throat.

He didn’t take her threat seriously, and he struck her in the side with his armoured fist.

She killed him. One push from her slim hands and he was dead.

She turned her head away and rolled off him.

“The rendezvous is this way,” Gavin said with some brotherly sarcasm. “Unless you’ve found more maidens to rescue? Christ, you have.”

Gavin saluted with a shockingly bloody war hammer. “Your servant, fair maid.”

The blonde woman put a hand to her mouth.

Gabriel put his own hand on hers. “Let’s see if we can manage the mounting better on a second try,” he said.