by Jason Rice
from Knights of France
***
Sir Guillaume paused for one last glance back at Nesle. The English soldiers were almost upon the city and there was little chance the small French garrison could hold out against King Henry’s superior numbers.
“Sir, we must be on our way if we are to get word to Constable d’Albret,” a young boy said with worry. “We must warn them about the English.” He stamped his feet, but whether due to youthful impatience or simply to warm his legs in the chilly fall air Sir Guillaume was unsure.
“Easy Simon. We will be on our way soon enough.”
“But sir,” Simon squeaked as his voice broke, “the city can’t hold without support!”
“Have I forgotten which of us is the squire then?” Simon looked abashed as Sir Guillaume continued. “We can’t leave yet without something to report. The Constable knows well enough that King Henry will take Nesle. Our goal is to win the war, not save some unimportant village. We need to determine the strength of the English and where, exactly, they intend to go from here.”
“Yes sir.”
“Now, your eyes are younger than mine. Come here and tell me what you see. How many men does King Henry have and, more importantly, how many knights? Count the banners.”
Simon cupped his hands to shield his eyes from the sun, peering into the distance. Just then, a branch snapped in the woods to his left and Simon froze. Sir Guillaume whirled and drew his sword as an arrow glanced off his breastplate. He pushed Simon behind him and raised his shield.
“Outriders! Get to the horses!” Sir Guillaume shouted. An arrow hit the ground behind him and another made a loud ‘thunk’ as it struck his shield. Simon turned and began to run, but stopped when he realized Sir Guillaume was not following him. Glancing back he saw an English knight mounted on a gray destrier emerge from the woods. The horse neighed loudly, eager for battle. Behind him were two archers riding bay rouncies.
“Sir Thomas!” Guillaume bellowed, recognizing the heraldry on the English knight’s shield. “I should have known you wouldn’t have the courage to face me alone.”
Sir Thomas dismounted and drew forth his battleaxe. “Have at ye, Sir Guillaume. I need no help.” He handed the reins to one of the archers and advanced on foot, banging the axe head against his raised shield. As the two knights circled each other, Sir Guillaume initiated a few probing attacks to test the defenses of his opponent. These were easily deflected by Sir Thomas’s shield.
Sir Thomas responded with a strong swing of his axe. Sir Guillaume’s shield deflected the blow, the strength behind the attack leaving his shield arm numb. Sir Guillaume countered with a low swing of his sword, but the strike went wide when he was knocked off balance by an unexpected shield bash. Sir Thomas struck again with his axe and buried the blade in Sir Guillaume’s shield. Pain shot through Sir Guillaume’s arm as his shield started to split. Fortunately, the axe was momentarily stuck. Sir Guillaume aimed for a spot on Sir Thomas’s thigh, just below his cuisse, and was rewarded with a howl of pain and a spurt of blood. Sir Thomas spat “You’ll pay for that!” as he wrenched his axe free.
Sir Guillaume dropped his now useless shield and adopted a high guard posture with his sword. He parried Sir Thomas’s next attack and quickly initiated a riposte that was blocked by Sir Thomas’s shield. The counterattack left Sir Guillaume overextended and unable to avoid Sir Thomas’s next swing. The axe blade struck Sir Guillaume’s exposed armpit, burying itself several inches into his chest. Mortally wounded, Sir Guillaume dropped to the ground. He smiled, however, as he saw his squire mounting his horse. Smart boy, he thought. The English horses wouldn’t be able to catch the faster courser. At least the Constable would get word of his death.