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Page 318
Chapter 24
Sir Heribert rode for Gloucester at his best speed, but when he arrived he realized it would have made no difference how he had dallied on the way. His news was no news. Spies had brought word weeks before that the Earl of Pembroke meant to attack Shrewsbury. Worse yet, that information was now considered to have been no more than a trap to make John of Monmouth believe that Pembroke was no longer in south Wales and that his keeps were thin of men and supplies.
Instead, Pembroke had been lying in ambush and had not only nearly destroyed Monmouth's army but had so looted and burnt the land all around Monmouth and for miles east and north that there was hardly a head of cattle or a bushel of wheat to support life in the area. It made no difference that Heribert knew that Pembroke had now really gone north to attack Shrewbury. King Henry had no men, no arms, and virtually no money. Pursuit or aid of any kind for Shrewsbury was impossible. Thus, to bring the king news of the attack on Shrewsbury would only be rubbing salt into a wound.
Sir Heribert had been fortunate enough to discover this before he approached Henry. He had come into the hall, seeking some officer of the court to whom he could apply for audience with the king; however, Henry had been there already, with the bishops of St. David's, Chichester, and Hereford. In alternation they were describing to the king the shambles to which the countryside had been reduced, the corpses of the slain, almost numberless, lying unburied and naked in the roads and fields, defenseless against tearing and dismemberment by carrion birds and beasts. The stench, Hereford sighed, was so great that it corrupted the air, and the dead would soon thereby slay the few remaining living.
"Of your graciousness and mercy, my lord king, let this

 
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