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hand as she tried to keep from spilling to the ground. To no avail, she felt herself falling and tried as best she could to land clear of two knights who were charging at each other, their swords gripped two-fisted and swung with such force that sparks flew off the blades when they met.
    Cassie was driven back and sprawled across the path of a third knight, one who snarled and raised his sword over his head, intending to take hers off with the next blow. He was wearing a plain woolen shirt and hose, and without armor, he was vulnerable to the crescent-shaped glaive that swung out of the darkness and thudded into his back, chopping through his spine like a piece of kindling.
    He fell forward, landing face-down on the hard earth beside Cassie. She felt someone grasp a handful of her tunic to pull her up onto her feet again. She could not see his face behind the wide nasal of his helmet, but there was no mistaking the clear blue eyes that blazed out at her.
    “Sometimes we clanking knights can prove useful too.”
    She sensed his grin as Thomas swatted her on the rump and sent her into the safety of the forest. A blink later, he was gone again into the swirl of smoke and mist and the pandemonium of battle.
    ~~~
    Ten minutes? Fifteen at most, and it was over. Thomas stood in the center of the camp and turned a full circle, his sword blade dripping threads of blood, his breath misting the air around his helmet. The face he sought was not among the guards kneeling before the burning scraps of their tents. De Caux’s tent had been made of heavy silk and had burned fast and furious to the ground within seconds, but there was no sign of Prince John’s henchman within. Nor was he discovered among the bodies of the dead or wounded.
    And then, just as the dawn was painting the sky a watery pale blue, two of the archers came out of the woods dragging de Caux’s half-dead squire between them.
    With a hot coal pressed over his wound, he eventually spluttered the unwelcome news that Omfrie de Caux and two of his knights had managed to get away and were even then riding with the devil on their heels to Lincoln.

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    “We have won the skirmish, but we shall surely lose the battle.” Thomas was standing at one of the windows that looked out over the fields and forest. “Lincoln is filled with men loyal to the regent, and I warrant within the week there will be a small army surrounding our walls.”
    “What will you do?” Cassie asked nervously. She had been summoned to his chamber and was not entirely certain what to say or if she should say anything at all. Sir Hubert and the others had just left, having held a small, but quarrelsome council of war. Edward and Cassie had listened from the antechamber but had not been able to make out too many of the words through the thick door.
    The gruff knight had glared at her on his way out and she could not help but wonder if they blamed her archers for having let de Caux escape. She was prepared with arguments, if that was the case: They were woodsmen, not soldiers. They killed plovers and rabbits, not men. And there had been so much confusion when the fires broke out, with men and horses running everywhere...
    “What choice do I have?” Thomas said, answering her question. “We have to leave. We cannot withstand another siege and I’ll not see these walls brought down and the innocent villagers slaughtered. They’re too brave for such an ignoble end. No.” He shook his head and leaned a shoulder against the edge of the window casement. “We will walk out of here and leave the gates open. The castle is too valuable a defense to destroy for no reason, and when King Richard returns sanity to his realm, it will be here for me to reclaim once the viper has had his fangs removed.”
    “Where will you go in the meantime?” she asked, a little shaken to think he might sail for Normandy or Brittany to await the king.
    “Not far,” he said through gritted teeth. “The