“Ruan’s, where three days ago Richard’s knights had begun their race for the gold bezant, a figure stood alone. From a distance he seemed a lifeless thing, a stone or a tree-trunk set upon the road, dusted with the snow that had begun to fall a little after noon. Now and then a gust of wind would snatch at his dark cloak, baring a glimpse of brightness, scarlet and blue and gold, or plucking the hood away from a white still face that turned toward the north and west. The snow thickened. He paid ...no heed to it, nor tried after the first time or two to cover his head, although the flakes clung to his hair and lashes, half-blinding him. He heard them long before he saw them: the pounding of hooves, the jingle of metal, the harsh breathing of horses driven fast and hard over rough country. Through a gap in the swirling snow burst a company of knights. Their leader well-nigh rode over him. The red stallion reared, its iron-shod hooves seeming almost to brush his face. Its rider cried out.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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