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frey rode back to tell Salisbury, but his father did not seem surprised. He merely nodded and agreed that this battle would, indeed, break France. |
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The reply woke a surge of enthusiasm in Geoffrey. If they won, if Philip was forced to disgorge the Angevin territories he had swallowed, perhaps John would be eased in his heart and be willing to live at peace with his barons. Geoffrey thought of the few peaceful months he had had at Hemel with Joanna. Even those had been strained by tension and anxiety, but if that were gone? It would be a sweet lifea sweet life. Only this battle, this one battle in which Philip could be taken, and then home, and Joanna. |
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Certainly it was a fine day for fighting, clear and bright. The odd stretching of time before a battle was already in effect. It seemed to take terribly long for the men to form, for the knights and mounted men-at-arms to get into the saddle. Geoffrey's own movements seemed to him to be weirdly slow and dreamlike. Yet, when he glanced at the sun, what he believed to have taken hours had occupied no more than minutes. |
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Knowing that his time sense was unreliable was no real help. Geoffrey found that he was biting his lips, clenching and unclenching his hands, and breathing faster. Orage danced and bucked as the rider's growing tension communicated itself. Geoffrey cursed and curbed the stallion, then patted and praised it, knowing the fault was his own. Although Geoffrey now led his own contingent of knights and men-at-arms, his place was not far from Salisbury. It was arranged that if Salisbury should fall, Renaud Dammartin should command the battle, and if he should be killed or taken prisoner that the responsibility should devolve upon Geoffrey. |
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Soon, Geoffrey thought, curbing himself as he had curbed his destrier, soon. He could see his father rising in the stirrups to look up and down the field. A squire was sent off. Under his breath, Geoffrey groaned and cursed again. Someone was late or out of position or something else was wrong. More delay. Geoffrey's head lifted sharply. Off to the left there was a confused murmur of sound. Ferrand was |
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