I knew we had to act quickly because the witches behind us would regroup and we’d be cut off from the castle.
‘Use your bows!’ I commanded, and the three archers obeyed instantly, firing three arrows into the throng. One embedded itself in the nearest witch, hurling her backwards into the mud. After a second volley the kretch shook the body of the knight like a dog with a rat, before releasing its prey and bounding directly towards us. I met its eyes and saw that I was still the primary target.
I selected a throwing knife and hurled it straight at the beast; it embedded itself up to the hilt in the creature’s right eye. Two arrows also found their target. One skidded harmlessly off its shoulder but the second went straight into its open mouth and pierced its throat. It was Thorne who put things beyond doubt. She threw her blade with great accuracy to take the creature in the left eye. Now it was blind.
It swerved away from us and bounded towards the trees, yelping like a whipped dog. Seconds later we reached Sir Gilbert, and the two soldiers lifted him out of the mud and began to carry him. There was no time to check on his condition but it didn’t look good. Blood was leaking from the crumpled helmet. We headed back across the river and joined up with those of our party who’d survived the battle. The sergeant gave an order and the men-at-arms formed a small tight defensive square about the archers and the soldiers carrying the wounded knight. But Thorne and I fought outside that square as we made a slow retreat back towards the castle gate.
Of the mage, there was no sign, and this, added to the flight of the kretch, seemed to have disheartened our foes. Although they still outnumbered us many times over, few engaged us directly, and those who did died either at my hands or at Thorne’s, while those who followed sullenly at a distance were picked off by the four archers who had survived the battle.
At last we made it into the castle; the portcullis was closed behind us and the drawbridge lowered. We had lost perhaps a third of our force, and of the survivors many had suffered wounds. Nevertheless our first priority was the welfare of Sir Gilbert, who was carried into the great hall and carefully laid upon a table, where his attendants began to remove his spiked armour. Will watched in anguish as his father moaned in pain; blood continued to leak copiously from the battered helmet. His arm was badly mangled too, and removing the chain-mail sleeve proved too difficult.
Leaving him dressed in his mail undergarment, they next tried to remove his helmet, but he cried out in agony. I held up my hand to warn them to stop and pushed my way through to inspect him more closely. Then I shook my head.
‘The helmet cannot be removed,’ I told them. ‘He is dying. All you can do is give him something for the pain.’
The jaws of the kretch had embedded the metal deep into the knight’s skull. There would be pressure on the brain and it would swell and kill him. I estimated that he would be dead within a few hours at most.
‘No! No! It cannot be so!’ cried the son, starting to weep.
Thorne walked across and put her arm on his shoulder to comfort him, but he brushed her off angrily, glaring at her with hate-filled eyes. She stepped back, surprise and pain twisting her face.
I came forward, put my own arm on his shoulder and spoke to him in a kind voice. ‘Your father was a brave man, Will, and his deeds will always be remembered. You must be strong. Eventually you will rule here.’
The boy pulled away from me and I could see anger surge into his face again. ‘I wish I had never brought you here!’ he cried. ‘You have caused my father’s death!’
‘I wish that had not happened,’ I told him gently. ‘But we cannot change the past.’
I turned and beckoned Thorne, and we left the hall to return to our rooms. In the corridor outside we met the priest, escorted by two soldiers. No doubt he had been summoned to pray for Sir Gilbert. He gave me a look of utter hatred as he passed, but I hardly glanced at him.
Back in our room, I explained the new situation to Thorne.
‘We are in danger,’ I warned her, ‘and may soon have to fight for our lives against those who just moments ago were our allies.’
‘Will seemed very angry. I thought we were friends,’ she said bitterly. ‘Do you think he’ll turn against us?’
‘It matters little what he would like to do, Thorne. He is a minor and thus too young to assume his father’s role yet. Don’t you remember what Sir Gilbert said? On his death the priest will become the boy’s guardian until he comes of age. That guardian will rule this castle. So it is time to make our escape lest this refuge becomes a prison that we leave only by dying.
‘And there is another reason to leave now,’ I continued. ‘The kretch has been blinded. I believe that it will heal itself, but that will take time. So we should go now and put some distance between us.’
‘But where can we go?’ asked Thorne; she seemed close to despair. ‘Must we run for ever? Will was the first boy I’ve ever liked. It seems hard to part in anger. Perhaps I should try to speak to him when he’s calmed down a little.’
‘You would be wasting your time, Thorne. It is not safe for either of us to remain here a moment longer. And once safely beyond this castle, we should split,’ I suggested. ‘Our enemies are too numerous and they will never give up. Eventually they will catch me and kill me. But why should you die too? The clan will need a good assassin to replace me. You are the one, child.’
Thorne shook her head. ‘No, I won’t leave you. If you die I’ll become the custodian of the head. Isn’t that what you hoped?’
I nodded, realizing that she had made up her mind. I prepared to retrieve the leather sack but immediately I sensed danger. The warning came a moment too late. The door opened and four archers, bows at the ready, stepped inside. Behind them were another four men-at-arms and the priest, Father Hewitt.
‘Lay down your weapons or die here!’ he commanded.
He was a big man with broad shoulders and a florid complexion. Physically, he looked more like a burly farmer than a priest, but the black soutane he wore was new, with gleaming silver buttons down the front, and his shoes were cut from the finest leather.
Suddenly there were flickers of light in the corners of my eyes, the warning that the weakness was about to overcome me again. I had to get us out of the castle quickly.
‘Is this the way to speak to allies who fought on your side so recently?’ I demanded.