Medieval 01 - Untamed

had fallen a hundred yards behind the other knights. Despite carrying much more weight, the stallions were unaffected by the hard going, for Dominic conditioned the war-horses as carefully as he conditioned his knights. A mount that lost wind orstrength on the battlefield was worse than useless.
    When Meg’s palfrey finally cleared the boggy stretch, Dominic came alongside and waved the squires on past. Almost two hundred yards ahead now, the knights followed the creek through grass and scattered trees, and then into forest. Even without leaves, the trees and underbrush were sufficiently thick to swallow up the knights and the pursuing squires without a trace.
    Meg and Dominic had covered a thousand yards when the sound of a hunting horn echoed through the day. They pulled up and listened. The horn cried again and then again, marking the twists and turns of the chase.
    â€œThey turned up a side creek,” Meg said, listening.
    The horn sounded again, urgently.
    â€œThe stag has been sighted!” Dominic said.
    Breath held, they listened to the fading sound of the horn. The stag was leading the hounds a fine chase through hill and dale. Dominic had been right; the pace was breakneck. Her palfrey would have been badly outrun.
    Without warning, unease slid like ice down Meg’s spine. She looked around quickly in the manner of prey seeking any escape route.
    â€œWhat is it?” Dominic said.
    â€œI don’t know. Suddenly I feel like the stag. Hunted.”
    â€œDoes this happen often when the quarry is sighted?” he asked curiously.
    â€œNever before. I—” Meg’s voice broke off as though slashed with a knife.
    A horn sounded from the east, directly between Dominic and Meg and the knights pursuing the stag. The note of the horn was not that of the hound master of Blackthorne Keep.
    â€œDo you recognize the horn?” Dominic asked.
    â€œIt can’t be,” Meg said. “He wouldn’t.”
    â€œWho?” Dominic demanded.
    â€œDuncan. ’Tis the battle horn of the Reevers.”
    The horn sounded again, closer now. The Reevers were pursuing not the knights and squires, but the two who had strayed perilously far behind.
    â€œGod’s eyes,” Dominic hissed. “Is there a place nearby that one man can hold against many?”
    â€œThere is a place where no man will go.”
    â€œLead on!”
    â€œIt’s that way,” Meg pointed, “but my palfrey can’t—”
    Before Meg could finish speaking, Dominic snatched her from her mount, settled her astride in a wild flurry of cloth in front of him, and put his spurs to the big stallion.
    Behind them rose the shout of men who had just spotted their quarry.

22
    M EG CROUCHED PERILOUSLY FAR over the right side of the stallion’s neck while the lowest branch of a great oak threatened to sweep her from the saddle. Behind her, Dominic bent to the left. They passed under the branch so closely that his hauberk scraped bark.
    What sounded like shouts came from behind them. If it was the Reevers, they had fallen back in the frantic scramble up the hill.
    A hound bayed. The sound was deep-throated and supple, the voice of an animal whose wolf ancestors were only a few generations removed.
    â€œThey’re tracking us with dogs!” Meg cried, trying to see over her shoulder.
    â€œDon’t look back,” Dominic commanded. “You’ll lose balance.”
    Without answering, Meg buried her face once more against the stallion’s muscular neck and hung on with both hands until her muscles ached. Even so, if it hadn’t been for Dominic’s hard arm around her waist, she would have fallen. She wasn’t accustomed to blazing across the countryside on a horse of Crusader’s size and strength.
    Meg’s frantic heartbeat blended in her ears withthe rolling thunder of Crusader’s hooves, his deep breaths, and the urgent chiming of golden bells. Black mane whipped against her face. Tears were ripped from her eyes in the wind caused by the stallion’s furious pace as he lunged over a rocky hilltop and raced down the far side.
    Forest closed around them again, concealing them from their pursuers. Several hundred yards beyond the bottom of the hill stood a grove of massive oaks. They grew so thickly it was impossible to gallop through. In any case, Crusader was showing an abrupt reluctance to go forward at any speed.
    â€œGod’s teeth!”