... Blood pounded inside his skull.The pounding became more distinct. A thundering and a racing of hoofs, rising like a storm over the hills to the north. The triumphant baying of the Saxon war-horns was echoed by others, more distant. These were higher, shriller, the prelude to the storm.Cavalry bugles. Bedwyr's lungs were full of smoke and blood, else he would have laughed.The dragon had come at last.

This arrogant, perfumed young noble, in his rustling silks and polished lamellar armour, knew nothing of the hardships of war.

Well, bugger me," cried Jonas when he saw Richie with his bow, "is it Robin Hood or Adam Bell come to save us? Nay, it's Richie O'the Bow, hero of ballad and song!

Then again, I was never any good at plumbing the depths of a woman's heart.

For the first time in years, his heart raced, and the old excitement flickered inside him. The excitement of impending battle, clash of arms, danger and glory. Cei had almost forgotten it. To be alive, on the very cusp of death, was the greatest feeling of all.