All the while the oxen plodded on. Heads held low, they ignored the chaos of battle. Their huge dark eyes were intent on the road immediately ahead of their hooves. Long, glistening strings of drool hung from their muzzles. They toiled forward against the slope, goaded by their frightened drovers.
Gerin was managing to keep the road clear ahead of us. Whenever numbers of Vascons blocked the path, his Frankish lancers formed up and charged. They swept aside the men on foot, killing or wounding those who were too slow to run back up the hillside. Then the troopers reined in, turned and trotted back to resume their station in the vanguard. Each charge left a handful of Vascon corpses on the ground.
‘They’re out of their minds!’ Berenger yelled across to me. He was on the far side of the cart, riding escort. He had seen little action yet because the Vascons had launched their ambush from our right.
‘Hroudland ought to send a messenger to summon help from the main army,’ I shouted back. ‘This is just the first attack.’
Berenger laughed aloud and I heard a note of battle frenzy in his response.
‘Not a chance! The count is much too proud. We can fight our way past this rabble.’
I glanced over my shoulder. The Vascons were concentrating their attack on the rear of our little column. Hroudland and the rear guard were engaged against a grey-clad mob of the enemy. Eggihard and Anselm were mounted on tall, powerful horses so they were very visible. They had been reluctant to take orders from Hroudland, but in battle they were proving fearsome. Both men were using their long swords with deadly effect, slashing and thrusting, forcing back the attackers. A few yards away, Hroudland sat on his roan, roaring encouragement to his troopers as they drove off the Vascons.
It was impossible to tell how long the fury of the initial assault lasted. Eventually the Vascons saw how effectively we resisted and they began to withdraw, though only for a few yards up the mountainside where they were safe from our cavalry. There they kept pace with us, moving across the slope as our column crept forward.
To my surprise Hroudland took advantage of the lull in the fighting to ride up and congratulate me. His face under the rim of his helmet was running with sweat, and his eyes were bright.
‘Well done, Patch!’ he exclaimed. ‘You and your men held our flank.’
‘The enemy are only biding their time,’ I answered.
‘Then we’ll drive them off again and again until they learn that they can’t defeat well-trained cavalry,’ he assured me.
‘We’re not yet at the place Godomar thought suited for an ambush,’ I reminded him.
Hroudland was not to be put off.
‘Then that’s their mistake. They’ve thrown away the advantage of surprise.’
‘Maybe the Vascons are planning to delay us or to wear us down,’ I objected.
Hroudland drew his eyebrows together in a scowl. He did not like his judgement to be questioned.
‘What makes you such an expert soldier, Patch?’ he demanded, his congratulatory tone suddenly gone.
‘One of their lads slipped through our defence earlier. He put a hole in that waterskin over there,’ I said and nodded to where the punctured waterskin hung limp from the side of the cart.
Hroudland shrugged.
‘So we’ll be thirsty for a while,’ he said, though I noted that his eyes flicked towards the other carts. Several of their waterskins were also dangling empty.
I lowered my voice so that no one else could hear.
‘The next water source is the far side of the summit ridge.’
Hroudland recovered his poise.
‘Then all the more incentive to fight our way there,’ he retorted.
While we had been speaking the column had advanced perhaps a hundred paces. I wondered how many more hours it would be until we were out of danger.
*
The Vascons attacked us twice more before the sun was directly overhead. Each time we succeeded in driving them off though we lost a dozen horses, lamed or disembowelled. Their riders now walked or, if they had been wounded, they rode on the carts. We had not suffered a single death and I began to think that Hroudland was right; we would manage to force our way along the road until we were safely over the pass.
Two miles later everything changed.
Gerin rode back past me, his face grim. He was on his way to report to Hroudland. I was close enough to overhear him say to the count, ‘We’re in sight of the ravine now. It looks very narrow. A dangerous place.’ There was a short pause, and then Gerin added, almost apologetically, ‘We could always leave the carts behind. We still have enough horses to carry everyone to safety if they double up. I’m confident we could slip through.’
Hroudland’s answer was delivered in a harsh whisper.