There is a time for faith, Bishop, and a time for action. It would be a foolish man who stood on a battlefield and faced an army with a Bible in his hands. We are here to do the bidding of our Lord Almighty, but it is through deeds, as well as piety, that we serve Him.
Robyn YoungTags: intelligence reality fact logic
Robert rode beneath the banner of Carrick, the dragon shield on his left arm. He wore it proudly now in common cause; this symbol of Arthur, the warrior king. As he caught sight of Humphrey, the knight raised his fist in a defiant gesture that Robert returned. Today, God willing, they would finish this campaign. He wanted to return home blooded, to be able to tell his grandfather that he too had won his spurs in the king’s war. Nerves and anticipation battled within him, his breaths coming hard and fast in the tight encasement of his helm.
Robyn YoungRobert held back in the press, letting others go after the rebels fleeing before the charge. Their orders were to slaughter anyone found in the streets to provoke a quick surrender, after which mercy would be granted to those left alive. He had seen death throughout his life, but the duel he’d had with Guy was the closest he’d come to ending someone’s life and even then there had been rules imposed. There were no such boundaries here. The freedom to kill was a dizzying, precipitous feeling. But the veteran knights were pushing in behind him, forcing the issue. With a snarl of frustration at his own hesitation, Robert fixed on one man darting away down an alley and spurred his horse out of the crush in pursuit.
Robyn YoungTags: war
Will combatia impiedosamente, metodicamente, golpeando os homens à volta dele com o único objectivo de os derrubar antes que eles o matassem. Eles já não eram homens. Na sua visão, eles eram alvos que tinham de ser destruídos. O instinto tinha dominado o intelecto e o remorso tinha-se desvanecido por necessidade. Agora, ele era uma máquina alimentada por uma necessidade de sobreviver, pelo medo e pela adrenalina. Rugia enquanto os golpeava com a espada, o gume da lâmina a atravessar qualquer área de carne exposta que atingia
Robyn YoungHá homens nesses tronos, comandante, homens sem escrúpulos, ávidos de poder, que poriam em perigo nações inteiras para satisfazer o seu desejo de supremacia
Robyn YoungGarin tinha sido um peão, um peão fraco e controlado. Era o rei Eduardo quem tinha sido o verdadeiro traidor, o lobo no aprisco, o causador de todas as suas desgraças. Ele tinha sido o seu guardião. Tinha-se tornado o seu inimigo
Robyn YoungMas ela sabia, lá no fundo ela sabia. Ela tinha sido um recipiente onde o rei tinha despejado a sua angústia e o seu desespero. Estando tão vazia, ela deixara-se encher pelo negrume dele. Para ele, a criança que dava pontapés e que sonhava dentro dela não era mais do que uma semente que ele tinha plantado por engano, uma erva daninha que tinha de ser arrancada
Robyn YoungThe Red Comyns had always done well behind the throne. The king was but an instrument, as his father used to say. They were the musicians.
Robyn YoungEdward shifted from one foot to the other, then headed to one of the younger knights from Carrick, leading his horse and their father’s white mare. ‘Sir Duncan, will you hold the horses?’ ‘That’s your task, Master Edward,’ chided the knight.
John de Warenne had ascended the platform beside Bishop Bek and was addressing the assembly. There were more men than benches and those who hadn’t found a place had crowded in behind. Robert could no longer see his father and grandfather. He glanced round as Edward spoke again.
‘Please, Duncan.’ ‘Why?’ Edward paused. ‘If you do, I won’t tell my father you once tried to kiss Isabel.’ The knight laughed. ‘Your sister? I’ve never even spoken to her.’ ‘My father doesn’t know that.’ ‘You’re jesting,’ said the knight, but his smile had disappeared. Edward didn’t respond. The young knight’s face tightened, but he held out his hand to take the reins. ‘Wherever you’re going, you had better be back here before the earl.
Tags: humour
The unhorsing, wounding and capture of the enemy was sought, for corpses fetched little ransom, but in the blind chaos of the charge, death was a whore who did not care who she drew into her darkness, veteran knight or callow bachelor.
Robyn YoungTags: war
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