“You fair pulled my arm out of the socket last time,” the woman said reproachfully.

“I promise to do better,” Gabriel said.

“Who’s he?” the woman asked, pointing at the gore-besmattered knight. The pursuers had baulked—facing Toby and Michael and Ser Bertran.

They made the mistake of charging while he got the blonde woman back onto his horse. Ser Danved appeared from a maze of tent ropes like a trick rider and unhorsed a knight—knocking man and horse to the ground from side-on. Ser Danved was a big man, and he and his horse cut the whole column of pursuers—the men who’d passed his one-man ambush were at even odds with Ser Michael and Ser Bertran and young Toby, and were quickly unhorsed. Gavin charged into the midst of the fight, and panicked horses burst into the tent lines and men went down in all directions as their horses crashed through standing tents, and the melee became general.

“I’m Blanche,” the woman said. “In the pictures, the girl’s always behind the knight.”

Gabriel had to laugh.

It took another sharp fight to get clear of the camp; the whole of the casa, pages and archers included, proved a match for the disorganized Galles, and cut their way free.

“We could just cut our way in and get de Vrailly,” Gavin said. He was in high spirits.

“What, and just leave the Queen where we found her?” Gabriel cocked an eyebrow.

The Queen was on a good palfrey. She was as pale as milk.

They’d taken every horse of every man they’d unhorsed, so that they were like a moving livestock show—Ser Danved’s joke. Nell and the other pages were driving a herd of war horses, all still saddled.

“In a day or two, someone is going to raise an army,” Gabriel said. “Gelfred says this Du Corse has three hundred lances, and de Vrailly had the same last year.”

“More,” said Gavin.

Ser Michael swore. “And Albans who should know better—I saw men who were my father’s knights. I put Kit Crowbeard on his arse not fifteen minutes ago—the traitor.”

“Kit Crowbeard?” Gabriel asked.

“One of my father’s retinue knights. His professionals.” Michael frowned. “Did Ranald’s people save my da?”

“Ask me when we link up with Ranald,” Gabriel said. “I told him to keep his men away from the lists unless… well, he must have.” Gabriel looked south. “I hope he did. Otherwise, they’re all taken.”

Bad Tom nodded. “Aye, I didn’t linger to watch, but they were disarming the Royal Guard as soon as they could.”

Gabriel signalled a halt.

“Everyone change horses,” he ordered. He dismounted and held out his good hand to help Blanche, who ignored him and slid to the ground with neat athleticism.

“I must go to my lady,” she said. She ran off along the road.