Even as she ran towards me with him held out before her, even as she thrust him into my hands, and he came all warm and soft and heavy, I heard myself say: ‘I can’t take him.’

I saw the lance run her through, spearing her spine, as she cried out again: ‘Take him! Take him!’ and at that moment there was a dreadful crash like a forest falling down all at once and a rush of horses and men and danger, and I stumbled back into the dark interior of the house with the boy held tight against me, and the door swung shut on the street with a bang like a thunderclap.

I turned to thank whoever had saved me but before I could speak there was a roar of flames and a sudden blast of hot smoke, and someone pushed past me and threw open the door again.

The thatched roof of this temporary refuge was alight, burning like a pyre, blazing up like kindling in seconds. Everyone who had been hidden in the house was pushing past me to the street outside, more willing to face the merciless cavalry charge than death by burning; and I, smelling smoke like a frightened rat, dashed out after them, the child gripping to me, tight against my shoulder.

Mercifully, the streets were clear for the moment. The French horsemen had chased after Lord Robert’s troop in one mad dangerous dash. But Daniel’s woman was where they had left her with two great lance thrusts through her body. She lay in a deep puddle of her own blood, dead.

At the sight I snatched her child closer to me and started to run down the street, away from the gate, down the stone steps to the harbour, my feet thudding out a rhythm of fear. I could not wait to look for Daniel, I could not do anything but take the chance I had been given with Lord Robert’s ring. I fled to the harbour like a criminal with the hue and cry at my heels, and I was conscious all around me that everyone else was racing too, some carrying bundles of goods, others clutching their children, desperate to get out of the town before the French turned their horses and came back through again.

The boats were tied by just one rope, all sails furled ready to go at a moment’s notice. I looked desperately around for Lord Robert’s standard and saw it, at the prime position, at the very end of the pier where it would be easiest to slip away. I ran down the pier, my feet thudding on the wooden boards, and skidded to a halt when a sailor leaped from the ship and stood before the gangplank with a shining cutlass out of its scabbard, pointing at my throat. ‘No further, lad,’ he said.

‘Lord Robert sent me,’ I panted.

He shook his head. ‘We could all say that. What’s happening in town?’

‘Lord Robert led his company out in a charge but the French are in the town already, at his back.’