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Adrien made no objection. He too understood the need to protect family members.
When Roland reached the French encampment, he realized examining all the corpses would take more time than he had. The prisoners had to be his first concern. He finally located about a hundred men huddled at the edge of a muddy field, some grievously wounded. They were prisoners of rank deemed likely to fetch a ransom. Common soldiers had been finished off or left to die in agony. It was simply the inevitable way of things in wartime. A victorious army couldn’t be burdened with feeding and housing enemy combatants.
After dismounting, Roland trudged through the mire, wrinkling his nose at the reek of human waste as he eyed the prisoners; there must be a latrine ditch nearby. Short of asking for names, there was no guarantee he’d recognize a kinsman. He knew his relatives from Ellesmere but had never met many of his more distant English kin.
On the verge of abandoning the futile exercise, he noted one fair-haired prisoner smiling at him. Either the fellow had suffered a blow to the head, or…
“I’d know you anywhere,” the cocky bastard declared. “You look just like your brother, Becket.”
That was enough to get Roland’s heart pumping frantically. “Untie this man,” he yelled to a French guard.
“He’s to be held for ransom,” the soldier growled.
“I am Roland de Montbryce, commander of the Norman cavalry. My family will pay any ransom demanded by King Philip. Now, untie him or your monarch will hear of it.”
He helped his kinsman rise and the scowling guard used a dagger to slice through the twine binding his wrists. Roland doubted the French king would care a whit, but the guard didn’t know that.
Rubbing his wrists, the Englishman bowed and introduced himself. “Terric de Quincey. I am in your debt, cousin.”
Roland slapped him on the back. “Ha! I was with Becket at Melton Manor when King John…”
He paused, troubled when Terric’s grin fled. He remembered the message that had arrived at Montbryce after Becket and Marguerite’s escape from England. A furious King John had abducted Adelina. “What of your sister?”
“Still John’s ward. And the monster confiscated Melton Manor.”
