News came as Gerald took his breakfast, and when he read the despatch his appetite left him in an instant. He screwed up the parchment, his head hung low, whilst he mulled over the words.
“Is it ill news, my lord?”
Gerald eyed his lieutenant from beneath his brows. “You could say that. Gather together the officers and have them meet in my command tent.”
“Within the hour, my lord.”
“At this very moment.”
He threw back his chair as the man scurried out and waited, bristling. Damn them all with their hair-brained notions, their constant manoeuvring and plotting. A soldier belonged in the field, doing what he knew best, not trapped within the confines of the debating chamber. The point of a sword solved problems, not mealy-mouthed debates over who should have what and when. He put his fis
