Archers like Three Legs grumbled at having to pick up all the arrows they’d stuck in the ground, but they moved. Pages shifted their horses. Dan Favour was back—one wave and a glance and the captain knew he’d passed the message.

He looked at Francis Atcourt. “You and your lances and the Queen—that’s all I’m leaving on this side,” he said.

Atcourt bowed.

“Right,” Gabriel said. He ran, sabatons clicking and clanking, across to the lane. He peered down it, but there was no squadron of death-or-glory Gallish knights ready to crush his cat-and-clay plan.

He left one page—the new man, Bill something, recruited that morning in the barnyard—to watch the road.

“Call out if you see any men—mounted or on foot—in the lane. Do you understand me, Bill?”

Bill looked terrified, but whether that was at the coming battle or the mere fact of conversing with a lord, Gabriel didn’t know.

“You have a weapon?” he asked.

“No, lord,” Bill said stolidly. “I had a spear, but it’s back wi’ the wagons, wherever they is.” He paused. “Awhich I’m Bob, not Bill. Bob Twill, that’s me.”

Gabriel breathed out, a long and steadying exhalation. He unbuckled his arming sword and tossed it to Bob. “Don’t lose it, Bob,” he said.

The former ploughman clutched it.

Gabriel turned and ran for the other side of the hedgerow.

He arrived at one of the many gaps to find that Du Corse had arrayed his men well—a solid line of horsemen, well spaced out to make worse targets, and behind them he’d dismounted two hundred men-at-arms in a body.

Gabriel couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. His brother came and they knocked their armoured fists together.

“Why are you so happy?” Gavin asked.

Gabriel wanted to hug him. “Unless Towbray attacks this minute or Du Corse decides to be rash instead of professional,” he said, “we’re about to hand him his head.”

“Suddenly you’re cocky,” Gavin said.

“It’s the Queen,” Gabriel said. “Never mind. It’s everyone. But we’re going to pull this off. Listen up!” he roared, raising his voice. “Du Corse is going to roll up the hill and we’re going to beat him. The moment his men break—and trust me, lads and lasses, they’re going to break—we mount and follow them. See the road down there to the north where it enters the woods? Go to there. Rally there. Do not mess about. Ten minutes’ hard fighting, and we ride free. I promise. You all hear me?”

They shouted.

“You see the King?” he asked them.

He pointed down the hedge to where the Queen sat on her palfrey and the Royal Standard floated.

They roared.

Gavin laughed. “You are shameless, brother.”