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was cool, sweat trickled down Simon's face and neck. He wet dry lips and ground his teeth. The encampment was up ahead; it had to be. The paths had to lead somewhere. The Welsh, however, might no longer be in the encampment. They could have fled in the night, as soon as news came to them that the raid had failed. If they were gone, Simon knew his enterprise was finished. The small victory the night before had done more harm than good in that the men's emotions had peaked. If they now faced nothing beyond more starvation and discomfort, their spirit would fail. |
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When they came through the trees into the cleared area, Simon's heart sank still further. Against the slight graying of the sky that hinted that dawn would soon come, the palisade showed black and sharp-toothed. The camp was there. Beyond the palisade at an angle, one could see that the ground rose, and there were irregular blotches of darknesslean-tos? huts? But nowhere, not at any angle, was there a glimmer or a wink of lightno candle, no torch, no banked fires. Where there was no fire, there were no men. |
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Blank with disappointment, Simon automatically followed the plan of action he had outlined and fixed firmly in mind. He moved forward to a distance where an arrow could reach but an archer could obtain little force and less accuracy from his crossbow. To each side of him men field out, forming a long, flat semicircle, parallel with the palisade. |
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"Lord," Beorn muttered from behind Simon, "are they gone?" |
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"I" Simon began, and then stopped to swallow. |
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"Perhaps they fled in such haste that they could not carry all with them?" Beorn suggested hopefully. |
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And the word "haste" woke a succession of images in Simon's mind so that he drew a deep breath of relief and grinned. There had been no need for great haste. The men who fled the raid must soon have realized that Simon's troop was not pursuing them. Even if they |
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