I had hoped to find an easier path to our prey but, will I or nill I, I had given my horse free rein and it chose the simplest path.

My gauntlet had slipped, I had dropped both reins to save my lance. My charger, tallest stallion in our stables, my father’s final gift to me when I rode to war, shook his head at the suddenly free rein. We had not ridden without bridle since he was a colt.

He stopped suddenly, bracing all four hooves, nostrils quivering. Then he reared, coming down facing across the road seething with horsemen. There, up the opposite slope rode my foe! The hated knight still sporting the blue and green livery looted from my father’s castle; still riding the massive black charger that had nearly run me down from ambush just yesterday.

For all the road and slope between us, my enemy rode not an arrows-flight away!

As the Saints bear witness, my horse saw them and neighed, nay, screamed his challenge at the heavy black stallion and its armored rider. I leaned and kneed it away, intending to ride to the end of this ridge, hoping to find an easier path to our prey but given free rein, my horse chose the simplest path, charging down the slope and splashing thru the muddy fields that flanked the road. Men quit their ordered files before our charge. They ran. As we drove towards them, lesser horses, and perforce their riders, bolted out of our way. A glance to either side showed the Eastern King’s forces in disarray as we clove a straight path towards the black stallion.