Read Online What the Heart Sees by Marsha Canham - Free Book Online
Authors: Marsha Canham
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a deep, commanding kiss, one that sent the passion flowing through his veins into hers. When they parted, the tremors in her body ceased and the promise in his eyes sent the pride flushing through every inch of her being.
“My liege,” she whispered.
“My woodsprite,” he smiled.
Sir Hubert cleared his throat. “We can fight and lose the day sure as I’m standing here, but we can never win if we don’t fight at all.”
Thomas dropped his hand reluctantly, breaking contact with Cassie. With time and darkness fading fast, he passed the hushed orders to his men. On his signal, the small band of archers followed Cassie, vanishing like wraiths into the mist. Thomas fitted his helmet over his coif, hooked the pennyplate throat guard to his mail and nodded to Rolf to lead them on.
~~~
Just as Cassie had said, the sentries who were placed around the camp were half asleep. Most were not aware there was death in the woods until they felt the slash of cold steel across their throats. The lackeys tending the horses fared only slightly better; they were knocked out with cudgels and sword hilts, then bound and gagged and tossed into a shallow ditch. It was accomplished with such stealth that Thomas chose not to risk the possibility of the destriers raising the alarm with strange knights putting them to saddle. Instead, he positioned his men in a wide semi circle around the encampment and had Rolf whistle the signal to the archers.
High in the boughs of her chosen tree, Cassie heard the warbled trill and struck tinder to flint, lighting the small hillock of dried grass. The flame was small and would last only a few moments, but it was long enough to fire the pitch-soaked strip of rags tied around the arrow tips. In trees all around her, the other archers were doing the same and at her soft whistle, the arrows were nocked to bows and the flaming darts were sent flying down upon the sleeping camp. In quick succession she lighted and loosed three more, and when the little pile of grass burned out, she switched to the barbed arrows and waited.
From less than a hundred yards away, Thomas saw the pinpoints of flame raining down from the trees. Moments later he heard shouts, then screams as the tents caught fire. He rose from the mist, his sword in one hand, shield in the other, and advanced on the camp. To de Caux’s men, stumbling from burning tents, their heads fuddled from sleep, Thomas’s knights must have appeared to be nightmares come to life with the mist swirling around them, their helmets glistening wet, the silence broken by war cries and the deadly, metallic swish of chain mail.
Thomas’s knights swarmed through the camp, their swords hacking and slashing a bloody path. From above, a steady hail of arrows struck through chests and legs and unprotected necks as de Caux’s men scrambled to find cover. The horses, smelling fire, began to scream and buck against the tethering ropes. They broke free and ran in all directions, adding to the confusion. Three charged straight through the center of the camp, their hooves trampling running men. One of the knights managed to catch a beast that was hastily saddled and tried to swing himself on its back. Seven arrows struck between his shoulders, pinning him to the leather, and when the horse bucked and thundered away, the knight was dragged alongside, bouncing and screaming.
De Caux’s men had no chance. The surprise was absolute. Anyone who thought to raise a sword was cut down where he stood. Those who took to a knee and raised their arms straight up to the sky were spared, and in truth, there were more who did this than chose to die for a viper like Omfrie de Caux. Here and there were small, intense skirmishes where the blood flew in ribbons and the trees shook as the horses crashed around, shaking acorns and archers from the boughs.
~~~
Cassie felt her feet slip out from under her. The tree had been bent and she had lost her balance, driving a sliver of bark into her
“My liege,” she whispered.
“My woodsprite,” he smiled.
Sir Hubert cleared his throat. “We can fight and lose the day sure as I’m standing here, but we can never win if we don’t fight at all.”
Thomas dropped his hand reluctantly, breaking contact with Cassie. With time and darkness fading fast, he passed the hushed orders to his men. On his signal, the small band of archers followed Cassie, vanishing like wraiths into the mist. Thomas fitted his helmet over his coif, hooked the pennyplate throat guard to his mail and nodded to Rolf to lead them on.
~~~
Just as Cassie had said, the sentries who were placed around the camp were half asleep. Most were not aware there was death in the woods until they felt the slash of cold steel across their throats. The lackeys tending the horses fared only slightly better; they were knocked out with cudgels and sword hilts, then bound and gagged and tossed into a shallow ditch. It was accomplished with such stealth that Thomas chose not to risk the possibility of the destriers raising the alarm with strange knights putting them to saddle. Instead, he positioned his men in a wide semi circle around the encampment and had Rolf whistle the signal to the archers.
High in the boughs of her chosen tree, Cassie heard the warbled trill and struck tinder to flint, lighting the small hillock of dried grass. The flame was small and would last only a few moments, but it was long enough to fire the pitch-soaked strip of rags tied around the arrow tips. In trees all around her, the other archers were doing the same and at her soft whistle, the arrows were nocked to bows and the flaming darts were sent flying down upon the sleeping camp. In quick succession she lighted and loosed three more, and when the little pile of grass burned out, she switched to the barbed arrows and waited.
From less than a hundred yards away, Thomas saw the pinpoints of flame raining down from the trees. Moments later he heard shouts, then screams as the tents caught fire. He rose from the mist, his sword in one hand, shield in the other, and advanced on the camp. To de Caux’s men, stumbling from burning tents, their heads fuddled from sleep, Thomas’s knights must have appeared to be nightmares come to life with the mist swirling around them, their helmets glistening wet, the silence broken by war cries and the deadly, metallic swish of chain mail.
Thomas’s knights swarmed through the camp, their swords hacking and slashing a bloody path. From above, a steady hail of arrows struck through chests and legs and unprotected necks as de Caux’s men scrambled to find cover. The horses, smelling fire, began to scream and buck against the tethering ropes. They broke free and ran in all directions, adding to the confusion. Three charged straight through the center of the camp, their hooves trampling running men. One of the knights managed to catch a beast that was hastily saddled and tried to swing himself on its back. Seven arrows struck between his shoulders, pinning him to the leather, and when the horse bucked and thundered away, the knight was dragged alongside, bouncing and screaming.
De Caux’s men had no chance. The surprise was absolute. Anyone who thought to raise a sword was cut down where he stood. Those who took to a knee and raised their arms straight up to the sky were spared, and in truth, there were more who did this than chose to die for a viper like Omfrie de Caux. Here and there were small, intense skirmishes where the blood flew in ribbons and the trees shook as the horses crashed around, shaking acorns and archers from the boughs.
~~~
Cassie felt her feet slip out from under her. The tree had been bent and she had lost her balance, driving a sliver of bark into her
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