Dacre's War by Rosemary Goring Read Free Book Online Page B

being chased over the cliffs.
    When at last he came on the scene, the marauders were long gone. So too were the horses. The grass was churned to mud, and the darkness felt alive, the commotion the hilltop had witnessed too recent for the air to have settled. But now it was quiet, horribly so, save for the groans that reached them from the valley where the animals lay.
    Flints were struck, lights glimmered, and Dacre’s lieutenants were at his side. ‘We will send a party down there,’ Christopher began, panting from the chase, but Dacre turned away, his back to the cliff.
    â€˜No,’ he said, so tired he could barely speak. ‘There is nothing we can do.’ An ache gripped his chest, and he lowered his head, waiting for it to pass. He put out a hand, and Christopher’s arm was there. ‘No,’ he repeated, ‘let us return to camp. This has been an evil night. Going down there will only make it worse.’
    Behind them their men paced, too disturbed to leave, trying to ignore the sickening noises from below. As they gathered, they cursed and swore and cried, undone by this heartless act. Soldiers who had killed without qualm now felt unsure about what lay out there in the dark. Who would do such a thing, and why?
    When daylight broke, the night’s work took shape. A thousand and more of the army’s steeds lay at the foot of the precipice. The first beasts to fall had pitched headlong into the valley, embedding themselves in a lather of earth. Seeing the danger, those close behind them had tried to veer away, but crowded by the horses upon their tails they were forced onwards until all had spilled over the edge, a waterfall of flesh.
    Now they lay on broken backs, stiff as tables upturned in a brawl. Some were spread-eagled, as loose under the skin as if their bones were liquid. Most were dead, but some still kicked, life ebbing cruelly slow. Already men were moving between them, cutting throats for mercy.
    Waking armies are as noisy as a gallows fair, but that morning the hillside was subdued. A cook clattered a pan, and felt the rebuke in the men’s averted eyes. Few were hungry, yet all tried to eat, for who knew what the day would bring. But many meals were lost when they looked over the cliff top.

CHAPTER FOUR

    As the baron recalled the sight, his throat tightened. He spoke slowly, Burgundy words lying thick on his tongue. ‘We may have taken the town, but the story doesn’t end there.’
    â€˜Don’t be forgetting your prisoner,’ said Philip.
    Dacre thought of the disdainful laird captured on his way home as they rampaged over his lands and set his castle alight. His wife had been distraught to see him carried off. Touching it was, to witness her concern. But his men had left her with troubles of her own to deal with, and he doubted she’d have much time to worry about her husband over the next few days.
    â€˜Aye, it’s good we’ve got him in our cells. He’ll be useful.’ Dacre paused, trying to grasp the disappearing thread of his thoughts. ‘But this business is not finished,’ he said, pulling a jug of wine towards him. ‘Not by a long way.’
    â€˜What business?’ asked Surrey, his voice clipped as an abstainer’s, his goblet half full and his eyes clear.
    â€˜The horses.’ Dacre’s mouth twisted as if the word had scalded him.
    Blackbird leaned forward. Reports of the carnage had arrived ahead of the baron. He’d heard nothing like it before. It held a menace new even for these plagued lands.
    William Eure shook his head. ‘Truly vile. I’ve never seen anything so vicious.’
    â€˜A petty revenge,’ said Surrey, ‘and we should have been prepared for it. The fault lies with us. Our night watch was woefully lax. How it happened that they could be run through and die without putting up a fight astounds me.’
    â€˜This was no mere revenge,’ said Dacre,