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hour, but the pain- and fear-filled voice of his child pierced through the fighting fog as nothing else could. He turned his head toward the sound, saw the blood-covered form. "Geoffrey!," he cried, and wrenched his horse toward his son. |
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In that moment, a man who had been to his right and was now directly in front of him slashed at him. Salisbury blocked the blow automatically, but his eyes and mind were still fixed upon his child. He did not see another man who had been striving toward him almost as single-mindedly as Geoffrey, come up slightly behind him. He raised the formidable war club he carried. With a joyful hosanna to God, he brought the full force of the club, unimpeded by any need to ward off a counterblow at the same time, down on the top of Salisbury's head. |
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Like a stricken ox, the earl fell from his saddle all of a piece, making no effort to save himself. In the single instant before another opponent rode between him and his father, Geoffrey saw Salisbury topple, totally limp under the horses' hooves. |
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"Papa!" he shrieked, spurring Orage forward like a maniac, hardly realizing it was a man with a raised sword that was blocking his view, "Papa!" |
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