The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [472]
William realized that Richard was in a nasty position. As soon as he gained ground he found himself fighting three men. When William tired he could give place to Walter. It was almost impossible for Richard to hold all three of them off indefinitely. He was fighting a losing battle. Perhaps today would not end in humiliation for William after all. Perhaps he would kill his oldest enemy.
Richard must have been thinking along the same lines and presumably he had come to the same conclusion. However, there was no apparent loss of energy or determination. He looked at William with a savage grin that William found unnerving, and leaped forward with a long thrust. William dodged it and stumbled. Walter lunged forward to defend William from the coup de grace-but instead of coming on, Richard turned on his heel and fled.
William stood up and Walter bumped into him, while Gervase tried to squeeze past them. It took a moment for the three to disentangle themselves, but in that moment Richard crossed the little room, slipped out and banged the door shut. William went after him and threw the door open. The outlaws were making their escape—and, in a final humiliating stroke, they were riding off on the horses of William’s knights. As William burst out of the house he saw his own mount, a superb war-horse that had cost him a king’s ransom, with Richard in the saddle. The horse had obviously been untied and held ready. William was struck by the mortifying thought that this was the second time Richard had stolen his war-horse. Richard kicked its sides, and it reared up—it was not kind to strangers—but Richard was a good horseman and he stayed on. He sawed on the reins and got the horse’s head down. In that moment William darted forward and lunged at Richard with his sword; but the horse was bucking, and William missed, sticking the point of his blade into the wood of the saddle. Then the horse took off, bolting down the village street after the other fleeing outlaws.
William watched them go with murder in his heart.
The rightful earl, he thought. The rightful earl.
He turned around. Walter and Gervase stood behind him. Hugh and Louis were wounded, he did not know how badly, and Guillaume was dead, his blood all over the front of William’s tunic. William was completely humiliated. He could hardly hold up his head.
Fortunately the village was deserted: the peasants had fled, not waiting to see William’s wrath. The miller and his wife had also vanished, of course. The outlaws had taken all the knights’ horses, leaving only the two carts and their oxen.
William looked at Walter. “Did you see who that was, that last one?”
“Yes.”
Walter was in the habit of using as few words as possible when his master was in a rage.
William said: “It was Richard of Kingsbridge.”
Walter nodded.
“And they called him the rightful earl,” William finished.
Walter said nothing.
William went back through the house and into the mill.
Hugh was sitting up, his left hand pressed to his right shoulder. He looked pale.
William said: “How does it feel?”
“This is nothing,” Hugh said. “Who were those people?”
“Outlaws,” William said shortly. He looked around. There were seven or eight outlaws lying dead or wounded on the floor. He spotted Louis flat on his back with his eyes open. At first he thought the man was dead; then Louis blinked.
William said: “Louis.”
Louis raised his head, but he looked confused. He had not yet recovered.
William said: “Hugh, help Louis into one of the carts. Walter, put Guillaume’s body into the other.” He left them to it and went outside.
None of the villagers would have horses, but the miller did, a dappled cob grazing the sparse grass on the riverbank. William found the miller’s saddle and put it on the cob.
A little while later he rode away from Cowford with Walter and Gervase driving the