Malcolm escorted the women back toward the keep, but still the men lingered near the fresh grave on the point. Rafael doubted he was the sole one thinking that it could have been any of them fallen in that fight. He cast a glance over the company, two dozen mercenaries and yet more squires to service them, and noted the consideration in their expressions.
There was, perhaps, only one foe they could not defeat.
The wind was relentless and cold in this place, more than sufficient to make Rafael shiver, even on a summer’s day. Ranulf had stood for the mass, appearing to be as robust as ever, but he sat down on a stone now and ran a hand over his eyes. He looked pale and strained, and his vigor had deserted him again. Rafael checked his skin, but was relieved to find that it remained cool.
