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Page 433
enough to strike Rhiannon's pursuer down. If the man rushed back into his tent, it would be more difficult to deal with him. Either Simon's shout or the sights and sounds that met his eyes when he came out had just that effect. De Guisnes stopped, his mouth and eyes distended. The flat of Simon's sword caught him on the side of the head hard enough to knock him two feet to the left.
As the blow fell, Simon could not help but feel sorry for the man. He had had enough to stun him, apparently, before he came out of his tent. His face and neck were covered with blood, as was the sleeve of his left arm. Simon knew what had happened, and he did not have time to wonder why it had happened. That would come later.
"Rhiannon!" he bellowed.
It never occurred to him that she might have run away in terror, and indeed she had not. She slipped back around the side of the tent instantly, crying out happily, "Oh, Simon, how fortunate! I came to find you.
This statement, not unnaturally, had almost the effect on Simon that his sword had had on de Guisnes. His stunned speechlessness gave Rhiannon time to add, "My men are prisoners somewhere hereTwm and Sion. Will you pass the word to look for them? And I must get Math's basket."
On the words she nipped back into the tent. Simon let out another bellow, this time of rage. At once Siorl was at his elbow. "Get" Simon began, just as Rhiannon stepped out of the tent, calling for Math. Siorl's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He had heard Simon shout Rhiannon's name just after he struck down the owner of the tent, but he had been busy at the moment and had assumed it was a war cry. It might be an odd one, but it would identify Simon as attached to the Welsh party, and it was not unreasonable in Siorl's mind that his master would call

 
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