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Page 151
swung the morningstar forward, caught it by the short steel handle to which the chain was attached. Blood dripped down onto his gauntlet and glistened redly wet on his stallion's hide. He regretted the loss of his lance now. He could have slain out of hand two of the three who had turned aside from their original target, which Simon could not yet see.
Accustomed to fighting in larger groups, the men-at-arms rode bunched together. Bred to tourney fighting, where each knight fought for himself, Simon swung wide, turned his destrier sharply, and took on the man on the far right. His shield went up to block a wild sword thrust. The morningstar swung up and then straight ahead, as a man would thrust with a sword. At the point of greatest momentum, Simon released the handle. The steel ball shot forward, struck the helmeted face, thrusting the man sideways. Instinctively his arms swung out to seek support, and the shield on his left arm struck his horse in the side. The beast shied, fouling the mount of the middle rider.
Simon rode on past. His horse could not have checked in time in any case. As he turned his beast, he whirled the hanging morningstar. A trail of red droplets followed it, but its charge was soon renewed as it took the middle rider, who was struggling to control his startled horse, in the back and neck. This was no game of knightly endeavor in which men politely circled each other to meet face to face.
The third rider had managed to avoid the plunging horses of the other two and was circling also. He thought he had taken Simon's measure, but he had erred in failing to take account of Simon's destrier. On signal, the battle-trained stallion reared upward and turned short. The sword cut aimed to take off from behind the arm that wielded the morningstar struck the bottom edge of Simon's shield, slid down, and scored his calf. Perhaps that sight was a brief comfort before the morningstar came down again.
Bereft of opponents, Simon looked about for more.

 
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