The Rose Demon

exercise for my lads,’ Ratcliffe smiled, helping Matthias to his feet.

    For a while Matthias let himself be tended: one of Ratcliffe’s retainers bathed his neck and wrists with coarse wine. Another took him to sit beneath the trees, from where he watched his horse being lifted and the saddle taken off. Eventually Ratcliffe’s men, with bloody swords and daggers, returned on to the trackway. Sir Edgar came and squatted before Matthias.

    ‘I am sorry we couldn’t save your friends,’ he retorted. ‘But we came as fast as we could. Your messenger said that she knew we were leaving today and that she was frightened you would be attacked.’ Ratcliffe dug into his purse and brought out three pure gold coins. ‘There’s nothing like a pretty face and a bag of gold coins to spur on a knight errant.’ He turned. ‘Did you get the bastards?’ he shouted.

    A blond, surly-faced young man dressed in a black leather jerkin and red hose came swaggering across, thumbs pushed into his war belt. He had a cast in one eye which made him look sly.

    ‘City bullyboys,’ he declared. ‘They really should have kept to the alleyways. Two or three got away but the rest . . .’ He pointed back to where Ratcliffe’s men were now stripping the dead. ‘They are as dead as those. Anyway, who’s he?’

    ‘I’ve told you,’ Ratcliffe replied. ‘A friend of mine. He’s the one the young lady told us about.’

    The man hawked and spat, then swaggered back to join the plundering. Ratcliffe narrowed his eyes and watched him go.

    ‘Gervase Craftleigh,’ he said, ‘my lieutenant. He’d like to command this troop. A good fighting man, but mean-spirited and choleric.’

    ‘What are you talking about?’ Matthias asked. ‘What young lady?’

    ‘Oh.’ Ratcliffe pulled back his chain mail coif and wiped the sweat from his face. ‘We heard rumours about your little trouble in Winchelsea. Ah well, I thought, that’s the end of that: we’ve lost a good recruit. Then this morning, just before dawn a beautiful, red-haired woman came to our camp. Matthias,’ Ratcliffe shook his head, ‘she was exquisite: hair like fire, creamy skin, eyes full of life. She was with a man. It was dark, I couldn’t make out his features. Anyway, she said that you were leaving Winchelsea today but that she feared for your safety. Well, to cut a long story short, she offered me a small purse of gold and kissed me on each cheek, so we struck camp and marched as quickly as we could. We could see you were in difficulties.’ He gestured back to the road. ‘Thank God for your horse. He was rearing and kicking until the bastards killed the poor brute. What was it all about?’

    Matthias told him about Emloe and his gang, depicting it as a blood feud. Ratcliffe heard him out and got to his feet.

    ‘Well,’ he sighed, ‘I’ve done what I came to do.’ He looked up at the sky. ‘We are going to camp out under the stars tonight: you are welcome to stay.’

    ‘Can I still join your company?’ Matthias asked.

    Ratcliffe pulled a face. ‘Matthias, we’ve signed articles. We are now a full free company, nothing can be decided without a full vote of the council. We’ll do that tonight.’

    Matthias was given one of the horses from Emloe’s gang. The soldiers stayed for a while to drag the corpses from the road, Ratcliffe insisting that they gave them some sort of decent burial. By the time they had finished, it had grown dark. They continued their journey through the woods and camped in the lee of a small hill. For a while all was bustle: horse lines were set up, a latrine dug, campfires lit, whilst some of Ratcliffe’s men went hunting, bringing back a pheasant and a couple of rabbits. These were quickly prepared for roasting. Coarse wine was served, everyone sitting round the campfire congratulating themselves on a good day’s work. Matthias gathered they were not only richer by the gold from Morgana, for it must have been she, but Emloe’s men had also provided horseflesh, armour, clothing, not to mention the contents of the purses.

    ‘Well, gentlemen?’ Ratcliffe got to his feet, clapping his hands. ‘The man we saved wants to join us. I offered him a post before we all sealed articles and left Winchelsea. Now, this time tomorrow, he could well be on board our transport and sailing with us to Spain.’

    A chorus of approval greeted his words.

    ‘We’ve all done good work today. So, perhaps before we continue, it’s only