«He shall flee from the iron weapon, and the bow of steel shall strike him through».[25]

Alyce would recall the next few minutes as a confusion of screaming and fighting and fear. Riding with Zoë at the queen's side, she heard the king's exclamation and Sir Kenneth's startled cry as his mount began bucking, and saw the riders nearest the king bear him to the ground for safety, others spurring toward the trees, and the source of the attack. At the same time, other men grabbed the queen's reins and drew her away from the confusion, one of the squires kneeing Alyce's mount aside to follow them.

It was all over very quickly. As the king's men dragged several belligerent men from the trees, somewhat the worse for wear, others helped the king to his feet while more men swarmed around Sir Kenneth's plunging horse and wrenched its neck downward, one throwing a cloak over its head to hoodwink it and, hopefully, calm it while others went to the aid of the wounded man.

«Careful! His leg is pinned to the saddle!» one man warned, as Kenneth cried out and groped at the grasping hands when someone started to help him down. «Somebody, make this damned horse stop dancing!»

«The barb's gone right through the saddle», another man said, sliding a hand under the pinned leg. «I think it's into the horse's back as well».

«Well, make him stand still, or we'll have to put him down. Someone loose that girth! Easy!»

The horse was still snorting and prancing, trying to buck, to rear, but its handlers mostly kept it with all four feet on the ground. Kenneth was gasping with pain, for every jigging movement of the animal tore at the shaft through his leg. Boldly Alyce broke away from the queen's party, a horrified Zoë following, and rode to where the drama was being played out, jumping down to join the rescuers.

«Let me help», she murmured, pulling off her riding gloves as she pushed her way through to the horse's head and reached for it.

«Stay clear, m'lady, or you'll get kicked!» one of the men warned, as she skittered back from a flailing hoof. Another was drawing his dagger, obviously intending the coup de grâce to still the animal's plunging.

«Let me touch him», she said, shouldering past the man's blade, already focusing her powers as she slipped her hands under the muffling cloak. «I'm Deryni. I can calm him».

A few of them backed off a little at this reminder of what she was, but the horse subsided immediately under the touch of her hand and mind, still whuffling and snorting but with all four legs now firmly planted, head dropping obediently.

«Easy, boy… That's it. Good boy… Now, brace the saddle and pull it off with him», she ordered, slipping one hand along the horse's neck to grasp Kenneth's nearest wrist, flesh to flesh. «Give it good support, and try not to hurt him too much. Sir Kenneth, look at me!»

He did, concentrating through his pain — and found himself captured by her eyes, caught by a sensation of falling into them, even as the men began lifting him and the saddle clear of the horse. The movement still hurt him — and he cried out as they carefully lowered him to the ground — but she moved with him, still grasping his wrist, wary of the horse as it was led out of the way, snorting.

Two men continued to support the heavy saddle as two more examined the angle of the arrow jutting from Kenneth's leg. Zoë had crowded in behind Alyce, craning to see her father's condition. As Alyce scrambled to his head, laying both her hands along the sides of his face and taking him into unconsciousness, one of the men carefully wrapped both hands around the feathered end of the shaft, obviously intending to attempt withdrawing it.

«Don't try to pull it», one of the other men warned. «The barb's gone all the way through».

«Just break off the fletching», another man said. «It's going to be easier on him if the shaft is pulled on through, once it's free of the saddle».

«Wait», said another man, working with one hand squeezed flat between saddle and pinned flesh. «I've nearly got it loose… there!»

At his nod, men lifted the saddle clear, those closest bending for a closer look at the arrow transfixing Kenneth's thigh. A knot of observers had gathered to give suggestions for separating man and saddle, and now eased forward warily as Alyce, too, shifted her attention to the damage done. Zoë dropped to her knees at her father's head, casting anxious glances between him, Alyce, and the wound.

The tip of the arrowhead, a wicked-looking barbed affair made for bringing down large game — or men — was just protruding from the back of Kenneth's thigh, and would surely do additional damage as it exited, whichever way it was removed. Alyce knew he would also bleed a great deal, though at least the arrow had passed through deep muscle, well away from the great vessel whose severance meant almost instant death.

«I wouldn't break off the arrow just yet», she said, moving one hand to stay the man about to do so. «It may be better to cut the arrowhead off cleanly, back at the castle, and then back the arrow out of the wound, with plenty of shaft for a handgrip. He's going to bleed a great deal».

«Do as she says», came the voice of the king, suddenly among the onlookers. «I won't lose him because we rushed things here in the field. Can he ride?» he asked, crouching down between Alyce and Zoë.

«Not really, Sire. He'd be far safer and more comfortable in a litter or a wagon, if one can be arranged».

«See to it», Donal ordered two of his men. «And go gently, Rannulf. He took that arrow for me».

They were several hours getting Kenneth home, carrying him in a litter until they could commandeer a wagon and bed him down in that. They padded out the wagon bed with hay and wadded cloaks to keep the injured leg supported, and Alyce settled down beside him to keep careful watch over his condition. The king had ridden on ahead with the prisoners, and another party had taken the queen and the rest of her ladies back to the castle by the most direct route, though a junior maid had been left behind for propriety's sake, riding just ahead of the wagon with Jiri Redfearn. Zoë rode anxiously alongside the wagon, and half a dozen of his knights behind.

After a while, Alyce allowed Kenneth to regain consciousness, blurring as much as she dared of his pain. She could feel the eyes of the king's men upon her as she sat there — judging, assessing, many of them disapproving — for she had been obliged to use her powers far more openly than was her usual wont; but it was not in her nature to let any living thing suffer, if she was able to do something about it. Sir Kenneth Morgan was the father of her dearest friend, a kind and gentle man, and had always treated her with the utmost courtesy and even affection, though he knew full well what she was.

«I must be dead», he murmured, after a long interval of jouncing along in comparative silence, accompanied by only the rumble of the wheels, the jingle of harness, and the occasional low-voiced converse of their escort.

She looked at him sharply.

«Are you in pain?»

He gave her a faint, strained smile and a slight shake of his head.

«No worse than before, dear girl. But since I am in the keeping of an angel, I can only suppose that I have passed to the next world».

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a genteel snort, along with a faint smile of her own.

«I doubt these gentlemen would agree, my lord». She gave a slight jut of her chin in the direction of the men accompanying them. «Most would judge me anything but an angel. But I am glad that your discomfort is not too great».

He raised his head slightly to glance down at his leg, lightly touching the shaft of the arrow with his fingertips, then lay back with a grimace and a sigh, casting a reassuring glance at his daughter, riding along beside them.