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“Oh,” said Tallia, and that was all.
Meekly, she let Cleric Heribert lead her back to her mother. When they arrived at Sabella’s banner, Willibrod took the mule’s reins away from Alain. Tallia was taken back behind the lines to the safety of the supply train, where the noncombatants awaited the outcome of the battle. One wagon had been brought forward from the train. This was unusual enough but made more so because Alain recognized it as the shrouded cage that concealed the guivre.
“You saw no sign of the Dragons?” Sabella asked.
“None. And I have never heard it said the Dragons hide themselves. Always they ride in the vanguard.”
“Bastard and whore’s child he may be,” said Sabella grudgingly, “but Sanglant is known for being brave. What of the others?”
“I saw none.”
“None of Henry’s children?”
“None.”
Sabella frowned. “That is unfortunate. I was hoping I might catch one or all of them for hostages. It would serve me well to have them in my hands.”
Antonia’s reply was so soft only Alain—and perhaps Heribert—heard it. “It would serve you better if they were dead.”
Sabella’s captain rode up with the message that Rodulf’s people were ready. “You must go back behind the lines, Your Grace,” said Sabella to Antonia. She settled her helmet over her mail coif and tightened the strap. The banner of Arconia flapped beside her, held by one of her men-at-arms: a green guivre with wings unfolded and a red tower gripped in its left talon, set against a gold silk background. “You I cannot afford to lose.”
“What of our guests?” The biscop looked, and smiled, at Constance and Agius.
“Take them with you. They are too valuable to risk here where the battle will be fought.”
Antonia signed, and Constance and Agius were led away under guard. “Come,” she said to her attendants. They began to move back. Alain hesitated. “Come, child,” said Antonia, beckoning to him. “You will attend me as well.”
Sabella noticed his hesitation. “This is one of Lavastine’s men-at-arms, is it not? It is time he returned to the count’s levy.”
“But—”
“Do as I say,” snapped Sabella with the expression of a woman who has no time to argue.
Antonia paused. Her face became a mask of stillness. Then, as the sun comes out from behind clouds, she smiled in her usual benevolent fashion. “As you wish, my lady.” She did not bow, but she gave in. So. Sabella danced to no puppet strings. Antonia might control Lavastine, but she did not control the daughter of Arnulf.
Once Antonia was gone, no one paid the least attention to Alain though several rough men-at-arms pushed him back and told him sharply to find his place, only to apologize when the hounds growled at them. But they made the sign of the Circle at their breasts, as if he was some evil thing.
He retreated to the back of the line. Sabella had in her own company over one hundred well-armed mounted soldiers and perhaps twice as many skirmishers and infantry; all together (according to Heribert’s count) she had six hundred or so soldiers. But Henry’s army was bigger, and Henry commanded more of the heavily armored cavalry that was the backbone of any lord’s army. Of the infantry Lions, there was one century, but by all reports most of the Lions manned the eastern frontier against the raids of the Quman horsemen and other barbarians.
Alain trotted along the back of the line. He heard leather creaking as men shifted, waiting, anticipating the first step. On the hill above, none of Henry’s soldiers moved. Alain could see the red silk banner flapping against blue sky and trailing white clouds, but the heads—some helmeted, some with hard leather caps, some with no covering at all—of Sabella’s soldiers blocked most of his view.
Was this how a battle was fought? Was there a strategy involved, or did the two sides merely wait until one commander lost patience or nerve and sent his side forward—or into retreat?
A gap opened between Sabella’s leftmost company of infantry and the rightmost company of those men under Lavastine’s command. The men stood with their arms tight against their sides so they could rest the weight of their shields on their hips. Most of these men carried spears; few common men had the wherewithal to purchase a sword.
As Alain sprinted past the open ground, dashing for safety among Lavastine’s men, he looked up toward Henry’s army. Movement coursed along the ranks. Then, suddenly, the sky darkened with arrows. Most of them fell harmlessly in front of the line of Sabella’s army; some overshot. A few found their mark. But even as men cursed and one shrieked in pain, the archers among Sabella’s army took aim and shot.
They had to arc their arrows higher, to gain the height, but, if anything, this volley had more effect. A ripple passed down the line of Henry’s army as if many arrows had hit their mark. And the line moved.
Horses started forward at intervals. Henry had sent out his skirmishers, mounted men armed with spear and shield or even spear alone. They raced forward, flung their spears, and turned back to gallop out of range, only to turn again—
Alain dashed along the rear of the line and saw Lavastine’s back and the black coats of his hounds just as a great cry went up from the crowd of soldiers around Sabella’s banner. A rank of infantry trotted forward into the empty field that lay between the two armies. They pulled the shrouded cage along with them.
“Hai! For Henry!” the host above them shouted.
Alain shoved his way through to Lavastine’s side. The count did not even notice the boy, he was so intent on the battle. At his leftmost flank, about twenty of his own skirmishers had raced out to meet the skirmishers opposite them. One group of horsemen broke away from the banner of Saony and began to sweep wide, disappearing into the forest.
Lavastine sought and found his captain. “Send a company after them,” he said.
