He hurtled on at breakneck speed through a grove and a clump of birch trees; the white trunks flashed by. One of the Cherethites overtook him, galloping frantically after Tauler, Scharley and Baťa. Samson’s horse was wheezing alongside. Behind them came the thudding of hooves and the shouts of their pursuers. And suddenly the high-pitched, dreadful cry of somebody being caught. A moment later, another man was intercepted.

They hurtled into a ravine, narrow but widening and leading towards a small river. Just ahead of him, Scharley, Baťa and Tauler were splashing through it. They climbed up the far bank and then the side of the ravine. The slope turned out to be muddy and Tauler’s horse slipped, sliding back onto its haunches, neighing in fear. Tauler fell from the saddle but immediately sprang up, yelling for help. Mořic the Scrapper and several of his men passed him at a gallop without even lifting their heads from their horses’ manes. Reynevan reached down from the saddle, held out a hand and Tauler seized it, swinging himself up behind him. Reynevan shouted and jabbed the horse with his spurs. He appeared to have overcome the steep, slippery slope.

But he had not.

His horse slid back down the muddy ravine and toppled over, kicking frantically and unseating both riders. Reynevan shielded his head with both hands, tried to roll away but didn’t manage to. His foot was caught in the stirrup and being squeezed painfully as the horse thrashed about. Tauler, who had been dazed by the fall, got to his feet only to be kicked in the head. Hard. With a resounding thump.

Somebody grabbed Reynevan by the arm and tugged him. He cried in pain, but his foot was jerked out of the twisted stirrup leathers. The horse struggled to its feet and ran away. Reynevan stood up, saw Samson on his feet and then, to his horror, a group of horsemen splashing through the river. They were almost upon them. So close that Reynevan could see their contorted faces. And their bloodied spear blades.

They were saved from death by the Cherethites and Pelethites, Mořic the Scrapper et consortes. They hadn’t fled but stopped at the edge of the ravine and now released a salvo from their crossbows. They fired accurately. Horses and riders splashed into the water. The Cherethites and Pelethites rode down the slope, yelling, brandishing swords and maces, and fell on the lancers.