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strike at the rider and exposed his left side to an oncoming lance. |
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He just managed to catch the lance on his shield, but he knew he had caught it too low. If the tip slid off his shield now, it would catch him in the throat. Desperately, Walter tried to move the shield both upward and away from his body, but just as he was straining his uttermost, all resistance gave way. His shield flew outward, catching the shaft of the lance as it fell and flinging it away to the left. |
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Walter heard a cry consternation, but he had no time to see what that freak accident had accomplished. He had barely managed to beat away a blow launched not at him but at Beau's neck. Because the man's arm was down, Walter's sword caught that, rather than the blade of his weapon. He shouted with satisfaction as the blade bit true, and his voice was almost drowned in the shriek of his victim. Walter knew he had not severed the arm, but he had felt the crack of bone. That man would not strike at horses again. |
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The best of defenses, however, was not adequate against too many opponents. Walter saw a sword angled to thrust in front of his shield, which he had not yet been able to bring back into position on his left, while another was coming down to strike at his sword arm on his right. He kneed Beau urgently to the left, knowing the horse could not get around in time, but neither blow fell. The man thrusting at his breast pitched forward and sideward, falling right across Walter's lap and Beau's neck while his horse collided violently with Walter's left leg. |
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Walter shrieked with pain as his knee was crushed against the saddle, and his shield, caught against the destrier's head, hit him on the shoulder and then wrenched his left arm up and back. But the force of the collision pushed Beau so far to the right that the sword blow aimed at Walter's arm struck the back of the man lying across him. Then the destrier on his left was gone, and the one on the right had veered off, too, leaving Walter still gasping with pain but with no serious injury. He managed to push the man off, although he felt as if he were moving a mountain. And now, all over the field, men were calling "À Marshall, à Marshal," as Pembroke's party recognized the danger of being scattered and tried to draw together. |
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A form loomed up directly ahead. His eyes still misted |
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