Page 62 of To Protect

Whether she believed him or not, Roland did not know. He’d have asked, but the one sound he wished not to hear reached them.

Someone, and then a chorus of men, screamed. “Attack.”

“Run,” he yelled, grabbing Amalia’s hand. When they cleared the grass, and he could see again, Roland’s worst fear came true. The enemy were already upon them, some of the men engaged in battle. They were surrounded to the north and west, but a path still appeared clear to the east. It was in that direction he spotted the queen’s crimson riding gown fleeing on horseback beside her captain of the guard.

Roland had never run from a fight in his life. But as his fellow recruits began to engage the enemy, he planned on doing just that. Getting to his steed and bringing Amalia to safety was all that mattered.

The squire was nowhere to be found, and neither was Roland’s mount. On the edge of the melee, a packhorse neighed, kicking up its feet. Roland tossed the saddlebags to the side and hoisted Amalia up just as the outer ring of fighting reached them.

Already, the Guardians had begun to push back the attackers, but he would take no chances that there could be more. He was about to mount when a familiar crest caught his attention.

No, please God, no.

As he watched, the man fought off one of Roland’s own. In the distance, he could also see Darien, mounted, preparing to let go of an arrow.

“Geoffrey,” he screamed, knowing he was right. These were not his father’s men, but that was most certainly his brother fighting alongside the others. All at once, he could see familiarity now. His mount. His fighting style. His brother never could resist joining a fight, more so than any of his siblings. Roland ran, Amalia in tow, screaming to Darien.

“No!” he called, over and over again.

Darien could not hear him.

“No, Darien. My brother.”

Slashing his way forward, Roland felling two men while hardly glancing at them, he finally caught the attention of his friend. “My brother,” he said, pointing to Darien’s target. “My brother,” he called more loudly.

Darien turned, felled another man instead.

Confident his brother was safe, for now, he paused long enough to mount behind Amalia. And then retreated the same way as Matilda.

“Retreat,” a man yelled, over and over. It was Sir Eamon’s voice.

A thinning between the attackers and the Guardians, along with a clearing that the attackers apparently did not have enough of their own men to cover, allowed both Roland and the others to escape.

They rode hard. Even harder than before.

Looking back, while clinging to Amalia, enough time passed as they continued their retreat that the sun began to dip in the sky. Roland tried not to dwell on the fact that his brother was partially responsible for their fallen men. They were on separate sides of a fight and such things were inevitable. Thinking too much on the fact would only make him angry and bitter.

Roland followed Matilda’s captain, confident the man knew which way would afford them the best terrain, and safe passage. Roland knew not how many they’d lost or if they were being pursued.

He knew only that Amalia was safe.

For now.