He’d barely dismounted since John Marshal had returned two nights ago, although the others did so. They were lounging around in the cover of the trees, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop watching. He wasn’t very good at waiting. He was worried about his young companion, following Edwin’s admission that he didn’t know how to fight. What would he do if he was attacked? He needed someone to look out for him. As he heard distant shouts issuing from the direction of the city he urged his horse forward out of the cover of the trees so that he could see more clearly. The moon was bright, flooding the plain, and his eye caught the movement in the middle of the open ground. Edwin. He was running. Sir Reginald looked behind the hurrying figure to see a number of men on horseback moving swiftly towards him. His heart leapt. There was no time to waste. Roaring to his companions to catch up, he shoved on his helmet, spurred his horse forward and galloped out on to the plain. The tactics came to him without thought as he rode.
