Devil's Bargain by Judith Tarr Read Free Book Online

her heels beside his cot. “They’re in the wood,” she said, “waiting for the dawn.”
    “And then they’ll surround us,” Richard said. He ran hands over the soft new growth of his hair, frowning. “There’s the sea—we can use that. If we keep formation—if I can keep the hotheads from charging too soon . . . the Hospitallers area little less headlong than the Templars . . . if I set them in the rear . . .”
    He had forgotten her existence. She left the same way she had come, ghosting past men who never saw or sensed her. There was not much time now; if she knew Richard, the trumpets would call within the hour, and the army would begin to move.
     
    They left the river in close formation, marching through the sand, as close to the sea as the land would allow. The knights of the Hospital held the rear in their black cloaks and white crosses. The Templars, who were considerably less amenable to discipline, led the vanguard, supported by the Turcopoles: mounted fighters from this country, armed and mounted very like the Saracens, on small swift horses that could match the enemy’s mounts stride for stride. The nations of the Crusade rode or marched between: men of Anjou and Brittany, Poitou and England and Normandy, then the knights of France, and last of all, ahead of the rear guard, the battle-hardened knights of Syria. The infantry marched in ranks beside them within a wall of crossbowmen, thickest and strongest in the rear, where the enemy could be expected to strike hardest.
    Richard for once did not rove the lines, looking for a fight. The Duke of Burgundy and the pick of the knights took his place. They were not such fools as to waste the strength of their destriers so early in the day: they rode up and down at an easy trot, saving the force of the charge for later. Richard rode in the center under his great standard, patient as he never was except when he rode to battle.
    Master Judah had dispersed the physicians as Richard had the fighting men, by nation and company. He was riding not far from Richard in a coat of mail and a light helmet, as Sioned was—for safety’s sake; he carried no weapon. She had a sword and a Turkish bow, made for a boy’s hand, light and not too difficult to string, but strong and with an impressive range.
    She had seen fighting enough—one did, in this world—butthis was her first march to battle. Her heart was beating hard. She could see very little from where she rode, except the king’s standard and the banners of the knights and the infantry companies. The ranks were so close that she rode knee to knee with Master Judah on one side and one of the king’s clerks on the other; others pressed behind, and her mare walked with her nose against the tail of the horse ahead.
    Sometimes a horse took umbrage; a squeal and a curse, and now and then the thud of a kick finding a target, broke the near-silence of the army as it advanced. Trumpet calls and swift-riding couriers told the king what he needed to know: that the divisions were holding together, that the men were keeping formation—and, as the sky greyed with dawn, that the enemy had begun to come out of the forest.
    They fell on the rear guard first, as everyone had expected. The Hospitallers were ready for them. Richard had given strict orders: no knight was to break formation until the trumpet rang the charge. They must be a wall and a moving fortress, bristling with crossbow quarrels. The enemy could batter himself senseless upon them.
    The ranks held, all of them, from van to rear. The advance was steady, step by step. Now and then an infidel arrow arced overhead. Burgundy’s knights picked up their pace and began a series of short charges. They meant to draw out the enemy, and they succeeded: a horde of shrieking, galloping Turks swarmed about them, beating against them with sheer force of numbers.
    “They’re holding,” Richard said in the almost eerie quiet of the center. He had an ear cocked to the