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“Where there are three, there might be more. I don’t think Falkes will be so easy on us a second time.”
    Then, the clip-clopping of another horse’s hooves sounded. I peered through the underbrush. “It’s Aaron,” Dafydd said, springing to his feet.
    Aaron’s head and his horse’s were down, draggingly tired, but they both looked up at the sight of us. I tugged at Dafydd’s cloak to keep him from bursting out of the trees. “Wait,” I said.
    After the first brief glance, Aaron looked away from us and pulled his horse off the road. He dismounted while Dafydd and I backed into the trees, thankful for his silent warning. It was another minute before the three soldiers from before returned and stopped as they reached Aaron.
    “A Jew!” one of them spat on the road. I knew enough English to understand those words, at least.
    Aaron kept his eyes fixed on the ground but it didn’t appease the Englishman. He leaned forward, grasped Aaron’s beard in his left fist, and jerked his head, forcing him to look up. “You offend me,” the man said.
    A small knife appeared in his right hand. In retrospect, it’s possible he only intended to trim Aaron’s beard, but before I knew it Dafydd had his sword out and had charged out of the woods. I was quicker, however, and the man died with an arrow through his neck before Dafydd could reach him. Finding himself without an opponent, Dafydd swung around and met the sword of one of the other men with his blade.
    Before the man could slash at Dafydd’s head a second time, Dafydd whipped out his belt knife and slit the horse’s throat. It crashed to the ground, trapping its owner’s leg beneath it. He screamed. Meanwhile, I pressed and loosed a second arrow at the third man who’d taken flight rather than engage either of us. The arrow hit him in the back and he too fell.
    All of a sudden, I could hear again. The birds in the trees sang as before, undisturbed by the violence we’d unleashed. Aaron rested his head on his horse’s neck, one hand to his eyes while Dafydd dispatched the downed soldier. I handed my lord a cloth with which to wipe his sword. Dafydd took it. He shrugged. “We need to move,” he said. “Now.”
    “A trail runs south, just there,” I said, pointing towards a spot a few yards distant. “But Aaron can’t ride much further.”
    “We don’t have a choice.”
    We’d not gone far down the trail, Dafydd slightly behind Aaron to encourage him and not allow him to fall behind, before the scent of the sea came strongly. The hoof beats behind us sounded more loudly too. Dafydd glanced once behind us, and then slapped the rear of Aaron’s horse with his hand. “Run!” he said. The horse took off.
    “They’ve brought too many,” I said.
    “I know,” Dafydd said.
    Dafydd and I spurred our horses. Ahead, a gap in the trees revealed the end to the road, a cliff that faced the sea. Beyond, in the fading light, the gray sea blended in with the grayness of the sky. Below the cliff should be the village of Annan and the boat.
    “Damn it!” Dafydd said. “Hurry!”
    I glanced behind me again. The English were closer—far closer than they’d been last time I checked. Ahead of us, Aaron raced through the gap in the trees and turned left, following the edge of the cliff. In two heartbeats he was out of sight.
    “My lord!” I said, “we might have to stand and figh—” But I couldn’t finish my sentence. An Englishman had gotten off a lucky shot with his bow and his arrow hit me in the back, low on my right side, driving through the leather armor into my ribs.
    I cried out.
    Dafydd heard me and looked back. “Christ!” he said. He reined in, signaling to Bedwyr with his knees and reaching for Llwyd’s reins. I struggled to stay upright but all the air had left my lungs. “Stay with me, damn you!”
    He managed to catch Llywd’s reins with one hand and me with the other. He tried to hang on to me, but my weight was too much and I fell