The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [275]
“You hold more territory than Maud—you can raise a larger army,” said an older man whom William recognized as Lord Hugh. “Go south, get reinforcements, come back and outnumber them.”
After the portent of the broken candle, William almost wished for withdrawal himself; but the king had no time for such talk. “We’re strong enough to defeat them now,” he said cheerfully. “Where’s your spirit?” He strapped on a belt with a sword on one side and a dagger on the other, both of them in wood-and-leather scabbards.
“The armies are too evenly matched,” said a tall man with short, grizzled hair and a close-trimmed beard: the earl of Surrey. “It’s too risky.”
This was a poor argument to use with Stephen, William knew: the king was nothing if not chivalrous. “Too evenly matched?” he repeated scornfully. “I prefer a fair fight.” He pulled on the leather gauntlets with mail on the backs of the fingers. The valet handed him a long wooden shield covered with leather. He hooked its strap around his neck and held it in his left hand.
“We’ve little to lose by withdrawing at this point,” Hugh persisted. “We aren’t even in possession of the castle.”
“I would lose my chance of meeting Robert of Gloucester on the battlefield,” Stephen said. “For two years he’s been avoiding me. Now that I have an opportunity to deal with the traitor once and for all, I’m not going to pull out just because we’re evenly matched!”
A groom brought his horse, saddled ready. As Stephen was about to mount, there was a flurry of activity around the door at the west end of the cathedral, and a knight came running up the nave, muddy and bleeding. William had a doomy premonition that this would be bad news. As the man bowed to the king, William recognized him as one of Edward’s men who had been sent to guard the ford. “We were too late, lord,” the man said hoarsely, breathing hard. “The enemy has crossed the river.”
It was another bad sign. William suddenly felt colder. Now there was nothing but open fields between the enemy and Lincoln.
Stephen too looked struck down for an instant, but he recovered his composure swiftly. “No matter!” he said. “We will meet them all the sooner!” He mounted his war-horse.
He had a battle-ax strapped to his saddle. The valet handed him a wooden lance with a bright iron point, completing his weaponry. Stephen clicked his tongue, and the horse obediently moved forward.
As he rode down the nave of the cathedral, the earls, barons and knights mounted and fell in behind him, and they left the cathedral in procession. In the grounds the men-at-arms joined them. This was when men began to feel scared and look for a chance to slip away; but their dignified pace, and the almost ceremonial atmosphere, with the townspeople looking on, meant it would be very difficult for the fainthearted to escape.
Their numbers were augmented by a hundred or more townsmen, fat bakers and shortsighted weavers and red-faced brewers, poorly armored and riding their cobs and palfreys. Their presence was a sign of the unpopularity of Ranulf.
The army could not pass the castle, for they would have been exposed to archery fire from its battlements, so they left the town by the north gate, which was called Newport Arch, and turned west. This was where the battle would be fought.
William studied the terrain with a keen eye. Although the hill on the south side of the town sloped steeply to the river, here on the west there was a long ridge which fell gently to the plain. William saw immediately that Stephen had chosen the right spot from which to defend the town, for no matter how the enemy approached they would always be downhill from the king’s army.
When Stephen was a quarter of a mile or so out of the city two scouts came up the slope, riding fast. They spotted the king and went straight to him. William crowded closer to hear their report.
“The enemy is approaching fast, lord,” said one of the scouts.
William looked across the plain. Sure enough, he could see a black